Gotham's Finest
by DarkMoonX
Summary: IN PROGRESS. JokerxCrane slash. Pre-Dark Knight. Jonathan Crane agrees to help the sociopathic Joker but he ends up getting in deeper than he intended to as they both make plans for Gotham.
1. Welcome to the Team

**A/N: To fans of the story – I do APOLOGIZE. I have been a slacker big time on this story. Work makes writing more difficult. I'm more tired so it gets hard to stare at a computer screen and type for more than an hour. However, I have managed to edit this story so far. I have changed some things, taken things out, etc. Not much of a difference but I had to take out some mushy things that the Joker was saying. The Joker isn't mushy. Jonathan Crane is my mushy character, because, well, it's Cillian Murphy as his character XD. The way I see Jonathan Crane in perspective to the Joker is very different, even though they are both cold villains. Jonathan Crane possesses more emotion than the Joker, he is very calm and collected as opposed to the aggressive Joker. That is why their characters work together. They just click.**

**Alright, so I edited everything AND added more to Chapter 11 that was going to be Chapter 12 but it was too short so I extended 11..but you guys will like it because it's the scene I've been withholding from you guys for too long now..and I'm sorry! Hope you like this slightly improved version. I'll try and continue it now.**

**Original: Okay so I had this idea in my head and finally got it out. Truth be told I don't know much about Batman. I've seen some of Tim Burton's Batman movies but I love Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins and The Dark Knight the most. I'll tell you, I fell in love with Cillian Murphy as the Scarecrow. And the Joker, can't even begin to explain the awesomeness of his character as Heath Ledger! So, this story begins where Batman Begins left off and goes through the months of where the Joker is making plans for Gotham. I've added Jonathan Crane to the picture as a sort of 'right hand man' and I'll end it where The Dark Knight begins. Since this is based off of Nolan's movies, they'll resemble them more than any other Batman movies or comics. I've never read any of the comics though I'd like too. That's why I'm just focusing on Nolan's movies. So I am bound to go off story a bit, but in all honesty, who is to say what did and didn't happen before the Dark Knight? Dr. Crane and Joker could have honestly worked together (they did in the comic). Anyway, yes, this is one of **_**those**_ **kind of fics, you know, the one where there is bound to be male/male bonding. Just a warning. **

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**Chapter 1**

**Welcome to the Team – Day 1**

The water sloshed under Dr. Jonathan Crane's feet as he climbed the concrete stairs. The pounding rain from outside had apparently leaked its way in through the roof – he hoped where he was going would at least be dry. When his hand hit the rail he stiffened; it was freezing, just like the dark night outside. As he continued to ascend to the second level, his heart began to beat fast against his chest. It had only been a couple of weeks since Arkham Asylum had been tarnished, completely broken and all of its mental and dangerous inhabitants set free into the streets of Gotham City.

Jonathan tried to relax himself as he turned onto the last set of stairs. The excitement of the past month was too much and although Batman had ruined everything, he had other ways of getting what he wanted, which was why he was here. Within this run down, dangerous apartment tenement within the ghetto streets of Gotham, he would find the very man he had encountered in Arkham only months earlier; a man that he hadn't tried his fear gas on. He had become too interested instead, in the mind of the man who had scars ripped up the corners of his mouth, in the shape of a distorted and ugly smile. The man that he had only briefly seen at Arkham twice before it was destroyed.

He had called himself Red but Jonathan knew knew he was the man recently stirring trouble for police. He had found out from one of 'Red's' henchman that he was calling himself the Joker. And it was here that Jonathan would find him, fourth level, room 406.

As he reached the last step he turned and looked down the narrow hall. The floor was dirty and the walls were cracked in many places. He stood out in a place like this, with his dark suit and sophisticated glasses, along with his old doctor's bag. He was more than just a lanky psychiatrist, however. No, Jonathan Crane was much more than that. He had studied deeply into the field of the human mind and the specific area of fear. He knew how to handle situations, given his average persona, though for the past few weeks his own mind wasn't as it had been before.

Jonathan's steps echoed off the walls as he made his way calmly down the hallway. His black shoes were ragged, not at all shiny like they should be for a man of his business-like stature, but that no longer mattered. He was a criminal now and no longer cared too much for his appearance. He hoped, as he came to the door that read 406, that the Joker would take him up on his offer to join his team as a henchmen. Taking down Batman was something he desired, but playing with him was even more fun. There was no telling what went on in the mind of the Batman. He was strangely cavalier, but Jonathan wondered just how long it could take before a man like that could break, before his mind started turning against his own self. He knew that he would be able to get to the Dark Knight through the Joker, as a team.

He shook his head, a smile playing faintly on his lips as he knocked three times on the door. He paused briefly, then knocked once more; his signal to the Joker that it was him. Within a few moments, the sound of a lock sounded and the door creaked open. His smile left his lips as he peered inside. It was dark and when the lightning flashed outside it did no good since the curtains inside blocked out the light.

"Dr. Crane," came a deep voice. "Please come in."

Jonathan, despite his constant study in the field of fear, couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy as he entered the room. When the door closed and locked behind him, his heart nearly stopped. It wasn't that the Joker - a criminal like himself - was a sociopathic killer, but the fact that he was alone with him in a dark room. Jonathan knew how to control himself, whereas the Joker was more than likely aggressive. He would have to choose his words wisely, else he fall victim to the Joker's mind games.

"So glad you could make it, doc," came the deep voice again, the tone almost sarcastic. "I see the weather hasn't affected you any."

"When it comes to the future of Gotham I make my dues." Jonathan's voice was calm and smooth, as it always was. He wasn't timid but he was never the kind of man to raise his voice, especially around others that might benefit him. For the most part, Jonathan was at ease with himself, more relaxed than the average criminal would be.

A light suddenly turned on and Jonathan squinted his eyes. Though dim, the rays were tender upon his pupils. When his eyes landed on the Joker he raised his chin. The man before him looked just the same as he had in Arkham. Same grungy look, same care-free stature, same dirty blonde hair, same scars, same dark eyes; yet there was something different about him, something that seemed off. His face radiated color but the circles under his eyes were deep, insinuating much needed sleep.

"Like what you see, doc?" the Joker suddenly asked.

This threw Jonathan off. He looked down before clearing his throat. "Why don't we talk business, shall we?" he replied.

The Joker shrugged his shoulders before cocking his head at the doctor before him. "Business it is. Why don't you take a seat? Maybe I could get you some coffee?"

Jonathan only stared, a bit dumbfounded, as he tried to determine whether the Joker was being sarcastic or truthful. It was really hard to tell, with that odd and disheveled voice of his, along with those playful facial features. "Nothing for me, thanks," he replied, though he did take a seat on an old leather chair, as the Joker had suggested.

"Ah, well then, I suppose you don't mind if I have one myself." The Joker turned and casually made his way to the kitchen.

Jonathan cleared his throat as he sat, his back straight as his feet stiffened to the floor. He looked around the room, his bright blue eyes taking in the walls and furniture. The apartment wasn't very big but it was a complete mess. Dirty dishes and newspapers were scattered about in various places, and he swore that he had seen a cockroach scurry away in the corner. The furniture was old and torn but apart from those things the place was bare.

He didn't like the quiet atmosphere around him so when he heard the sound of liquid pouring into a cup he looked over into the kitchen, only to have his heart stop at the sight of the Joker staring at him, his brown eyes intense as they bore into his face. He let himself stare back for only a few seconds before turning his head away. His heart was going frantic - he hadn't remembered being so shaken since he was a child. There was more in that cold, dark glare than anything he had encountered in years. The Joker was definitely sparking his interest now. He decided that now wouldn't be the best time to intervene with Scarecrow.

"Looks like some of your 'friends' hit the top story today," the Joker said as he made his way to Jonathan, his cup in his hand.

Jonathan didn't like the tone in his voice. It sounded like he was rubbing it in his face. And indeed he was, judging by the look on his face. "They were my patients, not my henchmen."

"Ah, so nice of you to abandon your little mental psychos for your own plans." He took a sip from his cup, the contents inside steaming.

Jonathan searched the Joker, trying to get into his mind. "I don't think it was that, so much as being a criminal means you're always on the run."

"Not necessarily," The Joker intervened quickly. "You see, I've dwelled in this dump for quite some time and yet no one suspects a thing."

"You're not as well known as myself. They're looking for me, not you."

The Joker suddenly smiled, a cruel, sarcastic kind of smile that made his scars stick out more and fill in with his face. "Guess you haven't been reading the last few newspaper articles. 'Man kills two, leaves card with victim' ring a bell? Tsk tsk, for a man with superior intellect within the minds of crazies I must say I'm disappointed in you, Doc, I really am." He took another sip from his cup.

"Alright," Jonathan said, giving in. "I am aware of the article, otherwise I wouldn't have come to you. No doubt Gotham will finally catch on to..whatever it is you're planning."

"This is only the flicker of the flame. When I'm done with Gotham it'll be like igniting oil, each district broken and burning, one after the other." He moved his fingers as if he were pressing buttons, demonstrating his domino effect plan.

Jonathan felt something stir in his chest. Here was a man that wanted nothing more than to see Gotham under his control, tattered and destroyed. He shared the same feeling and it suddenly made him smile. "I would like nothing more than to help you," he replied.

The Joker glared at him but a faint smile formed on his face. He wouldn't underestimate this doctor. No, not Jonathan Crane. After all, he had been the one that had tried talking to him several times in Arkham. He was the same doctor that had reveled in the stories that he had fabricated while in that nut house. He had seen the doctor's eyes light up at the chaos in his voice before. He was seeing it now again. He wouldn't let this one go. No, he would help him greatly with his plans.

"If it's one thing I'm gonna need it's backup," the Joker finally said, his voice deep and dry. "Don't get me wrong. I'm a savage dog, if you get my meaning, but I need the props in order to work."

Jonathan understood perfectly what the Joker meant. He used his own henchmen for his own gain, even if it meant they got killed. "I can get you men," he said calmly. Then he smiled widely, his teeth almost baring. "I can get you Arkham's finest."

"The mentally unstable was just my idea, Doctor. You and I might make a great team after all." The Joker was suddenly smiling and his face seemed full of life, despite his tired look. He took another sip of his coffee and continued to glare at the man still sitting on the chair.

Jonathan suddenly stood to his feet, picking up his bag. "So we have an agreement, then?"

The Joker looked up at him lazily, as if considering, but he already had his answer. "Consider yourself in," he replied deeply.

Jonathan nodded his head before sighing. "Then I will be back in the morning."

"_I_," The Joker started, stepping in front of him. "Didn't say you could leave yet. I need you here right now."

"For what?"

He smiled crookedly, his scar crawling up his face. He suddenly narrowed his eyes as he searched Jonathan's face. "Do you actually live anywhere, Doc?"

Jonathan looked down. "Well, no," he replied. "And please, call me Jonathan."

"Ah, giving in so easily now that you work for me now, eh? No matter, _Jonathan_, I assure you you're in good hands. Now that you work for me I want you to live with me too. No scattering about like bits of paper around the city. You're useless unless you're here. Got that?"

Jonathan was a bit taken aback but since he had already agreed to join the Joker he was vulnerable. What would it hurt anyway? It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. "Of course," he replied coolly.

The Joker smiled, satisfied with his answer.

"And should I refer to you as Red?"

"That's what I said on the phone."

"Is that your real name?"

The Joker chuckled lightly. "You still playing psychiatrist, Doctor?"

Jonathan raised his chin. "I was just asking."

"Mm, well forgive me for not answering."

Jonathan looked up at him and nodded. "Well then, _Red_," he emphasized. "Rest assured, I won't let you down."

"Good, cause it takes a lot of guts for someone to go against me. Betray me, and _rest assured_, Doctor, I will find you." The Joker had stepped in close so that his voice penetrated into Jonathan's ear. "Did I say Doctor?" he said deeply. "I meant _Jonathan_. Welcome to the team."


	2. Sewage Patrol

**A/N: PLEASE note that this fic features Jonathan Crane and the Joker slash. Since I do more romance fics, I'll focus more on these two together rather than out doing missions.**

**Chapter 2**

**Sewage Patrol – Day 2**

Jonathan woke to the sound of thunder booming loudly outside. The impact had rattled the walls of the room and had also jump-started his heart. With his eyes now wide and alert, he sat up in the bed and looked around. The Joker was no where in sight, which was a relief to him. Last night had been awkward enough. Though he and the mysterious man were both criminals wanting to claim Gotham, they still had their differences.

He sighed and looked down. The Joker's bed had hardly been a soft spot for sleep. He winced as he felt the knots in his back with his fingers. It had been odd last night, when the Joker had told him to sleep in his bed. Not that it mattered. The Joker was obviously not giving up his bed and, from looking at the room and how dirty it was, there was no way that Jonathan would have taken the floor anyway.

Luckily he had slept soundly. As for the Joker, he didn't know how well he slept, or if he even slept at all. When Jonathan had gone to bed, the Joker had left the room and could be heard doing other things in the living room. He had fallen asleep long before the Joker could ever join him, which made him wince slightly at the thought.

He looked up as he stood to his feet. The floor beneath him was freezing and it made him shiver. Being a man of research, he had done well to control himself in times of suspicion or peril. Right now, he didn't know what he had just gotten himself into. Here he was, an ex-psychiatrist that used to torture his patients with fear toxins for his own gain, yet he had always been the man behind the mask. Without Scarecrow, who was tucked away safely in his bag, he was nothing. Just an average man with a hunger for control. The Joker, however, was more. He seemed more than hungry. He was a rabid dog, sick and power depraved. Now he was getting his chance at redemption, and nothing seemed to stand in his way, not even death itself.

The floor creaked under Jonathan's feet as he slowly made his way to the door. What was the Joker doing? Making breakfast? No, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to make a morning meal. That was something he would have to get used to. No more eating at the asylum early in the morning. That Orange Juice and French Toast was long gone now. Batman had ruined all his plans. He would get his, though.

When he reached the door he pulled it open slowly. Peering in the doorway, he couldn't see the Joker anywhere in sight, which made him wonder. With the thought of being alone relieving him, he made his way out into the kitchen. He looked around once before pulling open the door of the refrigerator and looking inside. It was a bit dirty and there wasn't a lot of food, but he was hungry and wanted something to fill his stomach. However, he didn't like ravaging the Joker's fridge for food. Though he was part of the team, as the Joker had said, he still didn't feel like he belonged. Perhaps it was part of his controlling nature, of being a lone wolf like the Joker himself. Of course, the Joker had described himself as a dog. Jonathan thought he could take wolf, since it seemed to fit him better.

Upon browsing the shelves in the fridge, Jonathan heard the sound of a door shut behind him. He stood up and turned on his heel, not too abruptly but enough to be startled, and shut the door of the fridge.

"Morning, Doc," came the Joker's voice.

"Morning," he replied.

"Raiding my fridge, are you?" The Joker asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

"I feel sick if I don't eat." Jonathan was at ease, trying to condense his emotions down to feeling calm.

"Ah, well, in that case eat away, Doctor. What's mine is yours."

"Please, it's Jonathan," he said, before turning back for the fridge and finding a carton of milk inside.

"My apologies," came that sarcastic voice. "You see, I saw a lot of you back at the asylum, so I can't help but refer to you as doctor or doc or even shrink."

"Close friends would have called me Jon, or Johnny. Pick one if you'd like." He looked in the cabinets, treating the kitchen as he would his own, until he found a glass. It looked clean and untouched despite the dirty dishes everywhere else.

The Joker came up to the bar in the kitchen and rested his elbows on the counter top. "_Would_ have?Are we _close_ friends, Doc?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Jonathan looked down at him for a few seconds as he pulled open the carton of milk. "I don't really have friends, Red," he began. "I work alone." He took a gulp of milk.

The Joker raised his brows and shrugged. He was dressed simple, in a faded brown shirt and beige slacks. "Consider yourself a tool, Johnny boy. You work for me now and whatever I say goes."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to work for you."

The Joker cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes in amusement. "You're an articulate man, witty and smart. I'll have you know I don't let just anyone die for my plans." His voice was deep and had that rough edge of manginess in it. "No, you, you're smarter than that. You're not in it for the money, like those teenagers. I can smell it." He paused. "You want the Batman."

Jonathan swallowed hard and looked down. "I think we both share that desire," he replied, looking up calmly. "From the moment he got away I knew I was dealing with something big. The fact that he still parades around the city at night, masked, gives me this feeling that we can play cops and robbers for years and never get tired." A smile formed on his face, and what he said almost made him laugh at the sheer joy of it. He took another gulp of milk, drowning out his soft chuckles.

The Joker was smiling crookedly, glaring up at him in a dark way. "I underestimated you, Johnny boy."

"As I have you," Jonathan said boldly, his head held in that way of professionalism, something that he would never lose. It was part of him.

The Joker chuckled before moving abruptly off the counter. "So what about this, uh, Scarecrow of yours? I mean, that is where your potential comes from, or am I wrong?" That sarcastic tone again.

The smile vanished from Jonathan's face. The Joker knew about Scarecrow? That alter ego of himself that he kept packed away within his bag? How could he not, though? He had been in Arkham when the experiments had gone on. Jonathan looked down but there was no reason to feel ashamed. "Don't we all use masks, _Joker_?" He was proud of his witty response.

"Well yeah, but yours I've been eager to see."

Maybe Jonathan had been wrong. Perhaps the Joker wasn't mocking him but simply curious as to what Scarecrow looked like. "Simple," he said. "It's a burlap sack." He half expected the Joker to laugh but he didn't, which was good. He didn't want a reason to have to use the mask on him.

"So I've heard. Still have your toxins I hope?"

"Not many, but yes. As long as I have the formula I can still create them."

"Ah, then we'll have to keep that in mind. A lab for you and a hideout for all of us."

"And this hideout," Jonathan began. "Where is it?"

"In due time, Dr. Crane, in due time. Now if you'll excuse me I have to take a piss."

Jonathan looked down but smiled as the Joker left the room quickly, into the bedroom that he had slept in earlier. It was awkward to admit but he felt something strange toward the Joker. He thought about what he had looked like when he had been in Arkham. He remembered admiring his face, even his scars. There was something about him that made his heart jump, but he wasn't quite sure what. As he thought about it, downing the rest of his milk, he suddenly had the desire to know him better.

* * *

"For the protection of our asses we'll have to use back ways so don't carry anything you don't need."

Jonathan looked down as he stood in the middle of the living room, his black suit on and his glasses sitting perfectly on his nose, his bag in his hand. "You don't have a car?" he asked, curious.

"Well, if I did we could be followed." The Joker licked his lips, his face innocent as he packed a bag full of various things.

"So you'll risk lurking behind Gotham's uncharted territory because you're afraid we'll be followed?"

"I play a favorable game, Crane. Can I call you Crane, by the way? Just flows better from the tongue."

Jonathan cleared his throat but he nodded.

"You see, I have my ways of getting around the city without being seen. No one notices the average man taking a stroll down this part of Gotham, especially if he looks shady. But cops do."

"The cops are losing momentum now that Batman has come along. There aren't many of them on the streets, especially within this area."

The Joker looked up at Jonathan and stood with his back erect. "You just answered your own question, Crane. Batman. We wouldn't want to run into him now, would we?"

"Well, no, but wouldn't it just be easier to drive or take the subway?"

"No. One, I don't own a car. Two, I don't like the subway."

"Then how do we get there?"

"Through the delicacy of the city, Crane, the very shit hole that all of us sit upon. The sewers."

Jonathan nearly winced at the thought of it. "The sewers?"

The Joker zipped his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Every place in this city is somehow connected to another part, another district. It just so happens that the sewers are filled with tunnels that can get us to where I need to go."

"And no one suspects a thing?"

"What, like those nutless cops? Batman? Oblivious."

"Great, now how do we get there?"

"There's a sewer that runs into the city in the basement of this building. This time of day is usually when I go down there, since every person in this place is either shooting up in their rooms or out making dough." The Joker suddenly picked up a pistol from the table beside his bag and loaded it. "Ah, nothing like the power of chaos, Crane." He looked over at Jonathan, his dark eyes settling on the doctor's bright blue ones. Then he chuckled, turned on the safety, and tucked the gun away into the pocket of his brown jacket.

Jonathan wasn't afraid but interested. What was the Joker thinking at the moment?

"Let's go," the Joker said deeply, his mood suddenly shifting from innocent to serious. He was wearing a cotton jacket under his regular brown jacket, so he quickly picked up the hood at his neck and pulled it over his head. As he turned for the door, Jonathan followed behind him.

Once they were outside and in the hallway, the Joker locked his door and made his way down the hall until they reached the stairs. Jonathan looked around for anyone near but no one seemed to be out, just like the Joker had said. They descended the stairs until they reached the bottom floor, then they made their way to a door near the back of the building. The Joker easily opened it and they soon made their way down the dark stairs.

When they reached the bottom the Joker casually made his way to the manhole sitting securely in the ground. "It won't take much to pry this thing up," he said. "You know, when they built this place it was originally a hospital."

"Interesting," Jonathan said, looking around as the Joker used a crowbar from his bag to lift the seal.

"Could use a little help here," he growled.

Jonathan rushed to his side and helped lift the cover off the hole. When he peered down inside he swallowed hard and winced. A sick feeling was coming over him. What if it was a trap?

"Go ahead, I have to roll the top back on."

Jonathan nodded. Though he felt hesitant to climb down the hole and into the tunnel, he didn't object. It was only when he was halfway down the ladder, when he saw the light from the hole above close, that he wondered if the Joker was also climbing down with him. His heart pounded as his hands and legs moved faster, though the bag in his hand slowed him down. When he reached the bottom he landed almost knee deep in what he hoped was more water than anything else, though the smell told otherwise.

"Right behind you there, Crane," came the deep voice from above.

Relief settled quickly in Jonathan's chest. He should have known that the Joker wouldn't have left him like that. He was a man of his word, he didn't play games like that. At least, he hoped he didn't. When the Joker landed next to him he couldn't tell where he was, only heard the sloshing of water where his feet had hit.

"This way, Crane," the Joker said.

Jonathan suddenly felt a hand grip into his jacket as he was pulled through the water until his feet hit something dry. Concrete. He heard the sound of a bag being unzipped then squinted his eyes as a flashlight glared into his face.

"Just follow me and you won't get lost," the Joker assured, before slinging his bag around his torso and continuing down the sewer.

As they continued down, Jonathan wondered if they would ever reach their destination. It seemed like such a time consuming and unnecessary route to take when all the Joker had to do was take the subway, or even a bus. Still, he had agreed to work with the Joker, and whatever the Joker did was his decision, no matter how odd it seemed. As he thought about it, sloshing through the water, he began to see it the Joker's way, and began to understand.

Jonathan didn't like the sewer. Every turn smelled the same and every corner was dark and wreaked of crawling rodents. Even as they reached their destination on the other side, he hated the sewers and hoped they wouldn't have to go back again, though he knew that they would. He had to hand it to the Joker, though, he wasn't just your average breaking and entering criminal. He was much more. Jonathan Crane would never underestimate him.


	3. Tour

**Chapter 3 – Day 2**

**Tour**

Jonathan was flustered. The smell on his suit would never come out and he was lucky that his bag hadn't gotten ruined. Though he wasn't a man to complain, he couldn't keep the sour look from his face.

"What's wrong, Crane, was that little trip too much fun for you?" the Joker mused.

Jonathan kept a straight face, despite the uncomfortable feeling of sludge and water in his shoes. "A change of clothes and I'll be brand new," he replied calmly.

The Joker chuckled, his laughter bouncing off the walls of the narrow hallway. They were in a warehouse, an old run down building that had once been used for processing and packing meat before shipping it off into the city. Now it was a hideout for the Joker and his men, or boys as the clown called them. And they _were_ boys, too. As Jonathan passed a few of them in various places, their faces showed no sign of wrinkles or experience. They were being used at such a young age. It almost made Jonathan smile, as if he knew something they did not.

"Having a psychiatrist helps around here," the Joker began as he stopped at a metal door. "If one of these guys has a breakdown they can just go to you." He laughed in that dark way again, as if he were making a joke.

Jonathan raised his chin but didn't reply as the Joker swung open the door before them.

"And here is my own private quarter."

Jonathan followed the Joker inside the room and looked around. It wasn't too large, but it had a desk and a bed. It was just as simple as the living room back at the tenement. It was evident that the Joker didn't waste his time on being a pack rat. The only source of information he had was packed away within that brain of his, out of the hands of the cops.

The door suddenly shut behind him, making him jump. He turned his head, only to meet the Joker's dark gaze.

"If you need to change your clothes I suggest you do it now." The Joker's face was a mixture of amusement and seriousness.

Jonathan looked around the room. There was no other door but the one they had entered through, thus he was out of luck for a bathroom. Was he supposed to change in front of him?

"That is, of course, you still want to."

"Yes, I do," Jonathan replied. He wouldn't let the Joker stand in his way for a change of clothes. He figured it wouldn't hurt the clown to do so himself. Both of them smelled horrible.

With a sigh, Jonathan made his way to the brass bed against the wall and set his bag down on the mattress. As he opened his bag he noticed that the Joker had leaned against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest as he stood looking his way. That made his heart pound. Was he just going to stand by and watch him change? It seemed awkward but Jonathan figured a little conversation would ease the mood.

"The sewers were a great idea for a route," he said, as he pulled out a plain white shirt and faded jeans, along with a pair of worn out sneakers, the only outfit he could pack in his bag.

"It's kept me hidden this far," the Joker replied, his voice deep as he spoke.

Jonathan could feel his eyes on him. Those dark shades of brown were glaring at him in the same exact way they had last night. It was making his heart beat rapidly. He had to hurry this up. "And what about the warehouse?" he asked, as he pulled off his jacket. "No one makes trips down here?"

The Joker made a strange sound in his throat, almost a laugh. "No one ever makes it this far down."

Jonathan looked over at him as he loosened his tie. "You seem sure of yourself," he said, fumbling with the buttons on his white shirt.

"That's because I am."

_Keep the conversation going_, Jonathan thought as he pulled off his shirt. "And Batman? What about him?"

"Batman is the least of my concerns right now."

Jonathan couldn't help but stare at him, hesitating as he picked up his plain white shirt. What was the Joker implying exactly when he had said _right now_?

"He'll never find this place," the Joker finished.

Jonathan nodded before pulling on his shirt. Though it felt better than the suit, he had to admit his suit made him feel more at ease. His fingers fumbled with the belt at his pants but he managed to quickly unbuckle and unzip his slacks and shove them down his legs, taking his wet shoes with them and revealing his briefs. He felt slightly embarrassed as the Joker watched. He didn't like being gawked at. It almost felt like the Joker was controlling his every move with his eyes.

Before he could think further, he grabbed his jeans and quickly pulled them on. Now relieved, he sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of dry socks, followed by his dirty brown sneakers. When he was done he stood to his feet, folded his wet clothes, and packed them securely in his bag. As his heart slowed to an even pace he turned and met the Joker's eyes, whom hadn't moved or looked away from him the whole time.

"You put on quite a show there, Crane," the Joker said amusingly. "I particularly like how you make conversation to calm yourself."

Jonathan knew what he was saying was true but he didn't admit it, nor did he deny it. Instead he cleared his throat and held his chin high. "What else do you have to show me?" he asked, keeping himself at ease, proving the Joker right.

The Joker chuckled but turned for the door. "This way."

* * *

After taking the grand tour of the Joker's hideout Jonathan stood in the last room, which was filled with crates. Though the place had a short stock of weapons, there was plenty of room for more. As soon as the Joker got the plans up to rob the Gotham National Bank, as he had told him earlier, he would have plenty of more money to spend on the equipment necessary to take over Gotham.

Jonathan wondered, as he stood there looking around the dimly lit room, if the Joker was just in this for the money, but he knew too well the sociopath at his side. The Joker wasn't money hungry. He was control hungry, obsessed with being in a higher state of power. Even if the Joker never made it to the top as anything, even if he remained a mangy mutt, he would still live on with the satisfaction of bringing men down to his own level of thinking, thus giving him the ultimate power: control over the mind. Jonathan smiled at that thought. They would make a great team.

"So as you can see, Crane, this room will soon be filled to the rim with guns and explosives. All of which will be used for what I see coming in my genius brain." The Joker smiled crookedly as he turned to face Jonathan, his head cocked to the side.

Jonathan pushed his glasses up with his finger. "Very impressive," he replied. As he felt the Joker smile and look away, a strange feeling suddenly came over him. _Scarecrow_. He winced and shivered violently, suddenly casting his bright blue eyes to the smooth concrete below him.

The Joker looked over at him casually, his expression plain. "You gonna puke or something?"

"No," Jonathan said, trying to calm himself. _That wasn't my voice_, he thought. _Scarecrow is trying to intervene_.

"Well, if you're gonna go all cuckoo on me at least do it somewhere ah..safer." The Joker turned and made his way toward the exit.

Jonathan followed behind him and out into the hallway. He stared at the back of the tall man's jacket, but he got lost in his thoughts as he continued to walk in a steady stride. Why had he heard that voice in his head? Scarecrow was his alias, yes, but hearing his voice, so vividly in his mind, was odd. He couldn't deny the feelings, though. Since Batman had used his own toxin against him things hadn't been the same since. He felt fear often but he also felt a space of darkness enveloping his life, slowly. His sanity was wearing and, though he tried to keep his doctor like physique going, he had days where he didn't feel himself at all; days where he wouldn't sleep or eat. Instead he would ponder ideas, pacing the floor maniacally thinking about Batman and the possible future of Gotham. Producing fear was something that still made his heart beat fast. He wanted to see Gotham burn just as much as the Joker. He just couldn't figure out why.

"You look like you could use a drink, Doc," came the Joker's voice as they entered a larger room. It looked like an old cafeteria but much of the tile was broken or ripped off its foundation, and most of the tables and chairs were turned over or broken.

"No," Jonathan started. "I'm just..a bit tired I guess."

"None of that when we're out in the city. I need you awake, so get all the sleep you can."

"And you?"

The Joker smiled as he took a glass from one of the cabinets hanging against the wall. "I don't sleep much."

_That explains his spouts of mania_, Jonathan thought, remembering how his messy schedule had been in the asylum. "Tell me, does being sleep depraved make you feel more at ease?" he asked, interested.

"Still playing psychiatrist, Doc?" the Joker asked as he poured himself a glass of water.

"It's merely a question of curiosity."

The Joker chuckled as he took a sip of water. "I have too many ideas that keep me awake," the Joker replied deeply. "You never know when you'll miss something."

Jonathan considered this and understood. "Is that why you didn't sleep last night?"

The Joker looked up with his deep brown eyes. "Well it sure wasn't you keeping me away, if that's what you're asking."

For the first time in years, Jonathan's face tinted pink, slightly. "No, I..was just curious as to why you didn't sleep at all."

"Like I said, I might miss something." The Joker sighed in his chest as he made his way to the door, his back slumped slightly. "If you need sleep, Crane, do it now."

"And where will you go?" Jonathan asked, following behind him.

"Aw, gonna miss me?"

Jonathan almost tinted pink again. "Well, I like to know what's going on."

"I'll send for you or get you myself."

Jonathan made his way down the hallway, staring at the brown jacket yet again until they came to the same door as earlier, where he had changed before. The Joker opened it and they made their way inside. The room was dark and the moonlight was visible on the floor. It made him feel calm and at ease. He closed his eyes, his chin held high, savoring the darkness that filled every corner.

"There _is_ a bed, Crane," the Joker said, interrupting the smaller framed man at his side. "I don't know how sleeping while standing would fair with you."

Jonathan looked down, his heart skipping a few beats. The Joker's voice was intimidating in the dark room. When he nodded, the Joker turned and made his way to the door.

"Sweet dreams, Doctor," the Joker said deeply, his voice dark and a bit sinister against the moonlight.

Jonathan stood still until he heard the door close behind him. Then he made his way to the brass bed sitting against the wall, the sheets unmade and disheveled on the mattress. He sat down, which made it creak, but he didn't move. Instead he looked down at his bag sitting next to the bed on the floor and glared at it.

_He favors you_.

Jonathan swallowed hard as he kept his eyes focused on his bag. It was that voice again, that deep voice in his head. It didn't surprise him this time but it did make him shiver as before. Instead of fearing the voice inside his mind, he decided to provoke it, to talk back. _Who_? he asked inaudibly.

Silence.

Perhaps he was only losing his mind. It was probable, since he had been feeling odd lately. But he was the psychiatrist, not the patient. A psychiatrist who happened to be more interested in the human mind than any other that he knew of. He obsessed with it daily, with the way the mind worked. And since meeting with the Joker again, he had become a bit fascinated. The Joker had a tendency to switch back and forth between moods, a sure case of bipolar disorder. He also had an anarchic nature about him, which resulted in his behavior now. He didn't want to follow rules, he wanted to create his own; and even then his own rules were void, not even followed by himself. Of course, he had been diagnosed in Arkham with having Antisocial Disorder and, of course, Sociopathy.

Jonathan sighed as he retreated his eyes from the bag. Feeling tired, but not wanting to sleep, he laid down on the mattress and tried to relax. What would the Joker be up to as he fell asleep? He couldn't go out this time of the hour. Batman was always on the prowl at night, and he was always where you least expected him to be. It was affecting the whole community of criminals. It was also fun, until you got sprayed with your own dose of medicine. The toxin that Batman had released into his system had changed him, made him feel more in tune with the fear he once studied. Instead of being enthralled by the fear produced, Jonathan was enveloping himself in it, and learning to embrace it.

_There is nothing to fear but fear itself_.

Jonathan shivered. He hadn't heard the voice in his head, like earlier, but he could remember himself saying that to Rachel Dawes the night that Arkham had been let loose. At least, he _thought_ he had said it. Scarecrow seemed to have been behind most of his motives that night and he didn't remember quite as much as he should have. It was like a hazy memory, as if he had been in a dream-like state when it had happened.

He didn't like thinking about Scarecrow before he went to sleep so he let his thoughts drift to the Joker instead. He was, as he noted earlier, a loner. While in the asylum he had told many stories of his possible past life, all of which were fabricated, and done creatively so. The Joker was a sociopath, that he knew, and the closest he had ever gotten to any possible truth about him was when he had been heavily drugged. Jonathan could still recall the conversation in his mind:

_"Can you tell me a bit about your childhood?" _

_The Joker blinked his eyes slowly. "Mommy loved her son," was all he had to say before passing out on the mattress._

Jonathan shook his head. It seemed like a useless bit of information but to him that one sentence told much more in two seconds than five hours told while talking to a sober Joker. He didn't seem to remember either. At least, he _hoped _that the Joker hadn't remembered that night. They had drugged him after he got aggressive with one of the other patients. He hadn't been there long enough to respond to any of the medication they had given him. Jonathan didn't remember how he had landed in Arkham to begin with. It almost seemed like he had checked himself in, but he had had no identity or legal documents containing birth certificates or fingerprints. It had been odd but because of his mentality Jonathan had taken him in anyway. He had wanted to use the mask on him but the chance never came about. He had been very busy the week before Arkham went down.

Jonathan suddenly narrowed his eyes and sat up on the mattress as something suddenly came to him. What if the Joker had known about what was going on at Arkham? But if he did then why did he become a patient? There had to be a reason. The Joker always had a plan. The questions were too much. He wanted the answers and was growing frustrated at not having them. He would have to have a talk with the Joker about Arkham later on. Right now, with his head flustered and tense, he wanted to sleep.

He laid back down and let his mind drift into past memories, none of which were truly satisfying. The thoughts of the Joker soon left his mind as sleep overtook him.


	4. A Broken Man

**Chapter 4 – Day 4**

**A Broken Man**

Jonathan looked around sleepily as he zipped his pants and flushed the toilet. His restless nights of attempted sleep were beginning to show on his face. He didn't have that bright glow in his cheeks anymore and shadows were forming under his eyes. His face was pale and he had gotten thinner. He had woken early in the morning to run some errands for the Joker. A sort of 'prove your worth' errand. The Joker no doubt mistrusted him but since Jonathan had just as much of a hunger for Gotham as he did, the taller clown seemed lenient toward him. In fact, he seemed to have taken a liking to him rather quickly.

He sniffed as he washed his hands in the sink. As he let the cold water run over them he looked up at his reflection in the cracked mirror. The frown on his face was deep but his skin was smooth and delicate, as always. He could hear the Joker in the other room, cleaning a couple of knives. He seemed to favor the sharp blades with a fervor that was odd. The Joker's passion made Jonathan's heart pound against his chest. He was too interesting, too normal, yet culturally unacceptable.

Jonathan shut off the water but remained standing where he was. It had been a long day but now it was late and he was back at the Joker's apartment, in his disheveled bathroom. The counter and sink were dirty, stricken with black and red paint. His eyes watered as he focused on the colors. He was exhausted but his mind didn't want to shut down.

He sniffed again as he turned and opened the door. As he came into the room his eyes darted quickly to the Joker, whom had paused briefly as he sat on the bed, his back in full view.

"Finally joining us, Doc?" the Joker asked.

"Us?" Jonathan retorted, suddenly looking around the room.

The Joker chuckled lightly as he stood to his feet, his right hand gripping the handle of a small knife. He glared tiredly at Jonathan as he made his way around the bed. "Why yes, me and my little collection here." He gestured toward several knives packed neatly into a black case sitting on the bed. "But I won't bore you with those, Crane." He brought the small knife up and flicked it a few times before placing it in the case with the others. Then he closed the lid and locked it.

"So knives are your specialty then?" Jonathan asked as the Joker packed away his case under the bed.

"There's more meaning in a blade. Don't get me wrong, bullets and explosives work wonders, but there's nothing like fresh blood on steel."

Jonathan searched his face but quickly looked down when the Joker narrowed his eyes at him. The Joker raised a brow before making his way around Jonathan and into the bathroom, the door shutting loudly behind him.

Jonathan swallowed hard before sitting down on the bed. He was tired and for once wanted a good night of sleep. He had one pair of cotton pants to sleep in. He would have to buy some new clothes the first chance he got. Whatever he had gotten from his apartment before it was surrounded by the police was all he had. There was no way he could go back to where he used to live. He'd be caught, no doubt about it. He had to think rationally.

He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand. He didn't quite understand the Joker. It was as if he was playing two parts of himself: the lonely man that lived in a dingy apartment and the sociopathic killer that dwelled in the warehouse. It seemed to make sense, though. The Joker had told him earlier that he had to spread out his crimes and gradually work his way up to the top. He seemed a patient man, despite his criminal ways. He also seemed to have no feeling toward anything or anyone.

That made Jonathan's heart sink, though he didn't really know why. It wasn't like he wanted to be friends with the Joker, but the thought had crossed his mind. Jonathan hadn't had many friends growing up. He had kept to himself for the most part, but it wasn't because he was shy. He just had a tendency to prefer loneliness over company. The Joker was a small bit of company but he also brought out that loneliness, because he seemed so like himself.

A few minutes ticked by and eventually Jonathan couldn't hold his lids open any longer. Just as he laid down on his side, wincing at a dull pain in his lower back, he heard the door of the bathroom open and the dull sound of the Joker's shoes on the floor. His heart was pumping a bit faster now. Was the other man going to actually sleep tonight? His thoughts quickly raced away as the lights flipped off. Though he remained calm, his breathing intensified. He could hear the Joker making his way around the bed and to the window just beside it. Jonathan could see him in view now, a silhouette against the moonlight that leaked through the dark curtains.

Despite himself, Jonathan couldn't help but stare as the man at the window stood, so perfectly still and slumped as he looked out and beyond the glass pane. It made him feel things he didn't want to feel, at least not at the moment, not at this time in his life; feelings that were platonic, that craved affection from anyone.

The Joker continued to stand at the window for several minutes before he turned around. When Jonathan saw him move he quickly shut his eyes, faking sleep. His head was pressed comfortably to the white pillow under him and his right hand rested loosely beside his face.

Though he tried to remain calm he couldn't help but grow nervous as he heard the bed creak under him. The Joker had sat on the bed, was pulling the sheets over him and settling down now. Jonathan thought that the worst was over, that they could both sleep in peace now, especially with him faking, but he was wrong. Instead of falling asleep, the Joker took it upon himself to stare at Jonathan while he slept.

Jonathan could _feel_ the Joker's dark eyes watching him, could hear them when they blinked. It made his heart beat out of sync. What was he doing? Why was he watching him? He didn't move, he couldn't move. The Joker's awkward glare was burning into his face.

"You asleep, Crane?" came the Joker's deep voice.

"Almost," Jonathan mumbled, his voice dry. He wouldn't lie but he also wasn't going to let it be known that he was fully awake.

"You look perfect when you sleep."

Jonathan's eyes slowly opened at that. When he saw the Joker's face beside him his heart skipped a beat. All he could focus on were those two unsettling scars on each side of his mouth. They seemed to hold more meaning when they were in their natural color than when they were covered in paint, like earlier within the day.

The Joker suddenly grinned, flashing his yellow teeth in the moonlight. "What, cat got your tongue?" he asked, his voice amused. "Nothing to say back?"

"What is there to say?" Jonathan responded quietly. "I'm just wondering why you said it."

"Because it's true. Your skin, it's flawless, delicate, like porcelain. No cuts, no bumps, no scars."

Jonathan raised his chin and blinked, understanding. "So that's what it is," he said calmly. "Do you think you're imperfect because of your scars?"

The Joker clamped his jaw tightly against his teeth, his face serious now. "I'm a simple kind of man," he said seriously. "And no _man_ is perfect. Just look at you."

Jonathan continued to stare at the two dark pools of brown staring back at him. "You just said I was perfect."

"No, I said you _look_ perfect. Your body differs from what goes on in that little head of yours."

"So you think that I'm flawless on the outside?"

"Well, I can't say that completely. I mean, I haven't _seen_ all of you to determine that much."

Jonathan's cheeks tinted pink, just like they had last night at the warehouse. He was thankful for the dark between them. "I'm not perfect on the outside," he said, ignoring his crude remark. "There are things I don't like about myself."

"Don't we all have those little self-esteem issues?"

Jonathan kept silent, unsure of what to say.

"No matter," the Joker said, sighing heavily as he turned onto his back. "Nobody's perfect, especially you, Crane. You, like me, have broken a moral code."

Jonathan continued to stare in the Joker's direction, though he hardly looked like a Joker with his eyes gently closed against the moonlight. "Do you think you look imperfect?" he suddenly asked. His voice was soft but confident.

The Joker didn't chuckle, like Jonathan thought he would. Instead, he clenched his teeth together hard, his defined jaw showing the signs of his frustration. "I don't _think_, I _know_," he replied deeply.

Jonathan wanted to ask how he got his scars but decided against it. Right now wasn't the right time. Perhaps another day, another night, when he seemed in a better mood. "Goodnight," he said.

But the Joker only snored lightly in response.

* * *

_I'm in a church, sitting alone on a wooden pew. As I look up my blue eyes grow wide at the sight of a large man standing before me, holding out his arms as if beckoning. There's something eerie about this man. He's older and he's wearing a white robe. His head is bald except for the sides, where his white hair is showing brightly. I'm hesitant but also curious. I can hear music playing. It seems to be coming from him. He must be good, he must want to help me, so I place my hands on the pew before me and slowly stand to my feet-_

Jonathan woke with a heart-pounding jump, his voice cracking in a slight whine as his breath came out in intense heaves. His back was pressed firmly against the wall, his sweat sliding down his face. He heard something stir beside him in the bed, which only made him jump again, only to hit his elbow against the wall. He grunted in pain but fear overtook the feeling.

"Crane?"

Jonathan shivered. _It's just the Joker, Jonathan, calm down._ He slowly came back to reality as he saw the dark frame of the Joker sit up beside him.

"Have a bad dream about Batman?" the Joker asked, his voice sarcastic. "Why don't you tell me how it was. Do any obscene things with him?"

Jonathan made a face, disgusted as he closed his eyes, and tried to even out his breathing.

The Joker chuckled lightly. "What, you mean you don't fantasize about the Batman?"

"Weren't you asleep?" Jonathan asked sharply.

"Well I was, until you woke me up."

"My apologies." Jonathan's voice sounded sophisticated but his tone was annoyed.

"Why don't you settle _down_," the Joker said deeply. He grabbed Jonathan's arm and roughly pulled him off the wall.

Jonathan reacted by pushing him away. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Trying to calm you down. If you're always on edge I can't have you work for me."

"Just leave me alone," he hissed.

"Fine, have it your way. Just trying to help, you little prick."

Jonathan took a few breaths before standing quickly to his feet. He made his way into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. His dream had been odd but it had also touched a nerve. That church was all too familiar, those wooden pews so perfect in his memory. He could even smell the fragrance of it all as he stood against the wall. It was making him feel sick.

He closed his eyes as he moved to turn the faucet on. Pooling the cold water into his hands, he splashed it onto his face several times, trying to rid himself of the dream. The Joker hadn't made things easier either by being there. The way the man had grabbed him had set him on edge for sure. He had been grabbed that way several times before and hadn't liked the outcome in the past.

Jonathan ran his wet hands through his hair before looking up at his reflection in the dirty mirror. The man on the other side was pale and thin, the dark circles under his eyes deepening. He was falling apart on the outside and slowly decaying on the inside. All that was left of Dr. Jonathan Crane was slowly diminishing as Scarecrow began to take over his mind. It was all psychological, of course. Scarecrow wasn't real; he only existed in his mind, and his mind was close to breaking down.

With this thought he tore his eyes from the mirror and opened the door. As he made his way out his eyes focused on the bed, which was now empty. He swallowed hard. Where was the Joker? It was beginning to get lighter outside and he suddenly didn't want to sleep anymore. Jonathan looked down at the clock sitting on the small table beside the bed; 6:44. He looked around the room, his blue eyes searching for the Joker. When he saw a shadow come from the bedroom door he jumped slightly, his body tensing, until he saw who it was.

"You really gotta cut the crap, Crane," the Joker said, casually making his way around the bed to where he was sleeping before.

Jonathan could see his face better this time, though the Joker did well to hide his scars behind his dirty blonde hair. "I may be a criminal, just as cold as you, but I'm still human," he said, his voice soft and emotionless.

The Joker chuckled lightly. "Dreams are a window to the mind. Judging by your little episode earlier I'd say you have childish nightmares often."

"They're not childish," Jonathan retorted.

"What are they then, _Doctor_? You're the psychiatrist, you tell me what those dreams of yours mean."

Jonathan shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back turned to the scarred man behind him. "I don't know," he said lightly. "It's like I'm losing that part of myself that I once knew."

"It's called growing up," the Joker responded directly. "Once you stop meddling in the affairs of the common human you start to see what wonders you can work on your own. In your case, you've had a head start, only the Batman blew it for you."

Jonathan looked down. He knew the man was right. For a psychotic anarchist the Joker sure seemed to know what he was talking about. And he_ never_ seemed to falter, never seemed to break, at least not from the time he'd spent with him. He sighed, every deep thought draining him. His eyes were tired despite the sleep he had just gotten, though it hadn't been enough. He still felt exhausted. "I think I'm falling apart," he said lightly, his voice reflecting his tiredness.

"You have to fall apart first in order to rebuild yourself later. It's all a part of the process." The Joker's voice had a dark edge.

Jonathan considered what he was saying but didn't quite understand what he meant. As he felt the Joker lay down on the bed he narrowed his eyes before slowly turning around. "What process?" he asked.

The Joker sighed in annoyance as his head rested snuggly on his pillow. "To make you a dog like me."

"When I came here I didn't expect you to dictate me."

"You should have considered that before you came to me. Now you have no choice."

"I could leave if I wanted to."

The Joker chuckled lightly, his eyes closed. "No, Crane, you're mine now. If you leave I'll have to kill you, and I really wouldn't want to do that."

Jonathan's heart seemed to sink as something hard hit his gut. What had he gotten himself into? "What would be the point in killing me? To protect yourself and your plans? Your hideout? I would never tell the police about any of it."

"So goes the routine. Crane, if you want out, I can kill you now. And that'll be the end of it."

Jonathan was digging himself deeper than he had intended to. He was weak, so close to having a mental breakdown, and the Joker wasn't helping. "Maybe I can just do it for you," he whispered. Then he laughed grimly, his voice cracking. He was about to fall from the edge of his mind. "Save yourself the trouble."

The Joker suddenly sat up, his dark figure calm and not in the least bit hesitant. "You wanna kill yourself, Crane," he started, pausing as he moved to open a drawer beside the bed. "What better way to do it than a bullet through the head?" He turned toward Jonathan and stood up on his knees, suddenly overshadowing him.

Jonathan began to tremble, his breathing growing intense. When he heard the sound of a gun being cocked he tensed. He swallowed hard but he also stood up on his knees. When he saw the Joker hold the pistol out in his open hand he hesitantly took it. Was he being serious? Did he really want to kill himself? Or was he letting the Joker get to him? No, this had to do with the dream, his plans being ruined, Scarecrow, his past, the church, his grandmother, abuse, the priest, his plans being ruined..Jonathan suddenly pursed his lips and brought the gun up to his chin loosely.

The Joker looked more intrigued than anything. His eyes held an expression that Jonathan couldn't decipher, as if he was excited yet unsure. "Just think," he whispered, his face coming close to Jonathan's. "All you have to do is pull the trigger. The signals in your brain make your finger react, and before you know it, what's left of Dr. Jonathan Crane is splattered all over the room. It'll be messy, Crane, but I can promise you a proper burial."

Jonathan was trembling more now, the gun shaking under his chin.

"Why not go for the head," the Joker said, taking Jonathan's wrist in his hand and moving it roughly up to point the gun at his temple. "It goes quicker."

The Joker's forehead was against Jonathan's now. The psychotic man in front of him seemed antsy, as if he were waiting impatiently for the gun to go off. Jonathan couldn't think. All he could register was the Joker's words, so deep and delicate to his ears.

"Every human being longs to find out what happens when you die. You can't escape anything, Crane. Your past will always haunt you, and me, I'll continue to pull you with my strings. So it's your choice, Crane. Wanna' see the afterlife? That is, considering there is one. You'll be free of your hopeless dreams, free of your failure, free of your confinement to me. And who knows, this could all just be a dream."

Things didn't feel right, were dizzy. The room seemed to be spinning. Jonathan suddenly felt invincible and bold, feeling as if he _was _in a dream. He had to end his life, had to end everything the Joker spoke of. With the purse of his lips, he tightened his finger around the trigger, took a breath, and shut his eyes tightly. Then his finger curled back and the click of the gun sounded in his ears.

When the sound he was expecting didn't go off, and when the pain he was awaiting didn't shoot through him, he suddenly opened his eyes, his heart pounding so fast and so hard he could feel the anxiety about to break him. This _was_ real.

The Joker, his face now in an eerie frown, suddenly took Jonathan's wrist in his hand again, but this time he pulled the gun away and down beside them. He didn't let his wrist go as he glared down at the blue eyes gaping up at him, so shocked and confused.

When Jonathan took a breath it was loud and raspy, as if he had been close to suffocating. A few tears rolled down his face as what had just happened registered into his mind. He had just tried to kill himself and the Joker had tried to help him faster. But in some twist of fate, something had gone wrong.

"You don't want to die," the Joker suddenly said, his voice dark and serious as he glared down at him.

Jonathan grunted, let out another breath as he still clutched the gun tightly in his right hand.

The Joker brought Jonathan's wrist up in his hand, in front of both their faces, and removed the magazine from the pistol, which was empty.

Jonathan, his face shocked, looked up at the Joker, whom was staring with a calm but serious expression.

"You really think I'd let you die?" he said. "I can't afford to lose a man of your intellect."

"Then why did you do it?" Jonathan whispered through his teeth. "Why did you encourage me?"

"To see if you'd really do it. And you succeeded. Welcome to the team, Crane. You're now a broken man, a dog cowering in the shadow of its owner."

Jonathan suddenly dropped the gun he had been clutching to. He was angry now. The Joker had tricked him. It was dirty, but it had also been smart. He was in his grasp now. There was no turning back. He was now broken, like the Joker said.

"Listen to me," the Joker whispered, suddenly gripping Jonathan's chin in his hand. "You may be broken but I can fix you, make you into a better man. With time, you'll see."

The Joker hadn't let Jonathan die. He knew beforehand that there had been no bullets in the gun. He had saved his life. Almost killing himself made him uneasy now, but the Joker was making him feel dizzy. He searched the Joker's brown eyes, just inches away from his face. He knew that his own face looked pale and his eyes tired, but the Joker continued to stare back, an odd smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was feeling too many emotions all at the same time and it was making him feel sick.

"I won't leave," Jonathan said, swallowing hard.

"Good, because I didn't want to have to kill you myself."

The Joker was still staring down at him, in a way that was making him feel so uneasy it was making him dizzy again. He could feel the acid rising up in his chest. Everything was making him feel sick. He had just tried to kill himself and now he couldn't come to grips with himself. His face twisting in a wince, he suddenly pushed the Joker away and ran for the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before he vomited loudly into it.

Hurling didn't feel good but getting it out made him feel better. He could feel the sweat running down his face. He felt like he was dying, and the thought of him almost being dead made him feel even worse. When he was done he gripped the seat with his hands and stood to his feet, wiping his mouth with his hand. This was how it was supposed to be, how it was going to be from now on. Like the Joker had said, he had to break in order to rebuild. He had to forget his past, forget everything. He had to embrace Scarecrow.

He avoided the mirror but turned on the faucet. With his hands trembling violently he washed his hands and brought some water up to his face. He drank some, then turned off the faucet, his face holding a mixture of sadness and fear. As he made his way back into the bedroom, he noticed that it was even brighter. He felt ashamed as sat on the bed. He was a mess, completely disheveled.

"Well," the Joker suddenly said, standing at the end of the bed. "Why don't you just relax, Crane. Maybe I can make you some soup." His voice never failed at sarcasm when he wasn't busy being sinister and serious.

"Please," Jonathan said, holding up a hand. "I don't want food."

"Rest up then. We're not going anywhere today," the Joker said as he made his way to the door.

"Why not?"

"I'm giving you time to think about things. And I can't leave you here alone because, well, I might find you dead when I get back."

"Why are you so set on keeping me alive?"

The Joker paused in the doorway and smiled crookedly. "I told you, I can't afford to lose a man of your intellect, Doctor. I'm lucky to have found you. And between you and me, I like you more than any of my boys."

Jonathan looked down and nodded slowly. He didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. When he heard the Joker withdraw from the doorway he suddenly looked up again at where he had been. The Joker favored him over anyone else. That was more than enough to get him back on track. That and a couple more hours of sleep.


	5. Questions Unanswered

**Chapter 5 – Day 5**

**Questions Unanswered**

Jonathan woke with his face in the pillow. Sometime throughout the morning he had managed to roll over onto his stomach with the sheets tangled in between his legs. It felt good, his position. The mattress wasn't too uncomfortable and, despite his freezing skin, he felt warm, snug and safe in the Joker's bed. This thought irked him slightly. The Joker was an odd man, but he himself was odd as well. Still, their friendship, if he could call it that, was already beginning to take a strange turn. Toward what, he was afraid to say.

He blinked his blue eyes tiredly as he focused them on the lucid, bright rays gleaming through the blinds of the window. Light always seemed still, though he tried to imagine the raging photons contained within its speed. It seemed like everything had its own chaos in order to balance out the structure of the world. So did he. So did the Joker.

Jonathan lost his train of thought when he rolled over onto his back. He looked over at the clock on the table. It read 11 am. He narrowed his eyes, surprised. Had he really slept that long? The hour of the early morning suddenly flooded into his mind. He remembered how broken he had been for days, and how the Joker had gotten to him, so quickly, just a few hours earlier. Jonathan had been so vulnerable; the chance of death had slipped up and he easily tried to take it. But the Joker hadn't let him die so easily.

He really didn't know whether to be angry or grateful. On one hand the Joker knew that he couldn't be killed, wouldn't let him. On the other hand, the Joker had tricked him, made a mockery of him and had tied him onto an invisible leash. Jonathan didn't particularly like being preferred to as a dog; he didn't care to follow the crowd, but he also wasn't a natural born leader either. He was always in the middle of everything, taking whatever opportunity came up. And so, naturally, he would follow along with the Joker and see where things went. He didn't entirely trust the grungy man that looked slightly older than himself. He didn't feel like he would ever entirely trust him.

A chill crawled across his skin as he sat up and planted his feet onto the cold hardwood below. A light was coming from the crack in the door. He could feel the Joker's presence on the other side, his life so strong and radiant, unlike himself. The Joker seemed more perfect than himself, despite his outward flaws. He knew this wasn't so, though. The Joker had a past too, no doubt just as dark and cruel as his own.

Jonathan stood to his feet and slowly made his way toward the door, his legs wobbling slightly. He opened it hesitantly and peered out into the kitchen. The Joker was no where to be found, though his smell still lingered in the room. Jonathan took this opportunity to get something to drink. With his heart pounding, he made his way into the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets for a glass. As he poured himself some water, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing in the bathroom just beside the hallway, followed by the sound of water splashing in the sink. Then the door opened and Jonathan looked down at the counter.

"Ah, morning sleeping beauty," the Joker said, making his way to the kitchen.

Jonathan took a gulp of his water before nodding. He had nothing to say to that.

"Any more nightmares?"

Jonathan thought a moment before sighing. "No," he said, watching the Joker as he came to stand beside him. He couldn't help but stare. He had tied his greasy, dirty-blonde hair back into a band against the nape of his neck and. Though his face looked tired, there was a natural glow about him that seemed flawless.

"Good, then hopefully we won't have a repeat again tonight."

"I can't help it. It's been happening a lot." Jonathan took another gulp of water.

The Joker, his arms crossed on the counter, cocked his head and focused his eyes on something in the living room. "If that's what you tell yourself, Doc, then you'll keep doing it."

Jonathan swallowed hard. The Joker had a strange gleam in his dark eyes, as if he wasn't really there, at least not in his mind. Those two pools of brown were lost, faraway and gone. He remembered seeing that same distant look in many of his patients' eyes back at Arkham. This meant the Joker was vulnerable, he would be easy to talk to, hopefully.

Jonathan sighed contentedly as he looked around the apartment. "How do you find the means to pay for this place?" he asked.

The Joker didn't move, only blinked his eyes slowly. "I have my ways," he replied calmly.

"How long have you lived here?"

The Joker smiled at that. "Who knows?"

Jonathan gritted his teeth. This was going nowhere. The Joker didn't even have the answers to his own questions. "Can you give me a decent answer to anything?"

The Joker seemed to come back to life at that. Chuckling lightly, he pushed himself off the counter. "I don't know," he replied as he towered over the psychiatrist.

Jonathan, though uncomfortable, liked the dark glare the Joker was giving him. So much in fact, that as he stared back he found that he couldn't tear himself away from those two brown eyes. He looked so much like a normal man, minus the scars, though he found the sharp and offensive marks interesting. He felt a sudden urge to touch them but went against it. Things were getting weird. At last, he was the one to break away, the Joker's eyes too much for him to handle.

His face going pink, Jonathan looked down and quickly shoved past the Joker and to the bathroom, shutting the door securely behind him. He closed his eyes as he leaned against the wood of the door. No man had ever made him feel the way the Joker had made him feel for the past few days. It was too weird, too odd for words. He had had different feelings towards his patients when at the asylum, and while training when he was younger, but no one had enraptured him quite like the Joker. He went beyond any mental specimen he had studied. He was different, intelligent yet mad, articulate yet clumsy. Worst of all, his feelings toward the clown of different personalities were becoming more than just interested. He was becoming obsessed, just within the four days of being with him. His obsession, he knew, would eventually lead him to doing something strange, something taboo.

* * *

Jonathan stood poised and relaxed, his glass of water in his hand, as he looked calmly over at the Joker. The older man – as he assumed he was older – was on the couch, absorbed in looking through various newspapers. "So do you do this often?" he asked.

The Joker suddenly looked up at him, as if he had just noticed that he was standing there, before looking back down with a frown. "It's all a part of the plan, Doc," he replied.

Jonathan sighed as he looked away. "Would you please stop calling me that?" Though he hadn't lost his cool, he was a bit aggravated. A result of the past few days.

"Can't help it. Just like the name."

"I'd rather you use Crane."

"I could always use Scarecrow instead." The Joker looked up at him, smiled at the hesitant look he got behind those blue eyes.

"Scarecrow is my alias, separate from me, as the Joker is to you."

"Which is why I told you to call me Red."

"Why that name?" Jonathan asked lightly.

"Are you always this talkative, or is it just a morning thing?"

"Why can't you just answer the question?"

"Because there's nothing to answer." The Joker looked calmly up at him. "It was just a name for you to call me. I thought that red was your favorite color." He shook his head before looking back down at the newspapers.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes and looked down. Something suddenly twisted in his stomach as the Joker's words dripped into his brain. He had been right. His favorite color _was_ red. Or, at least, he favored the color red among any other. But how had the Joker known that?

"How-?" Jonathan started.

"Asylum," the Joker cut in. "The night I went in I was bleeding, and you told me blood red was your preferred color. Of course, I just thought you were trying to make a joke to reassure me."

As Jonathan dug into his memory, the scene suddenly came to him. "Yes," he responded. "It was a way to assure you that you would be fine, yet I took it upon myself to tell you that I liked the color."

"A bit creepy if you ask me."

Jonathan raised his brows in surprise. "Creepy?" he asked, repeating the Joker's word.

"Well, no offense, Doc, but the last thing a patient wants to hear is how your blood is his favorite color, if you get my meaning."

"So you were afraid?"

"Nope. Just curious." The Joker folded up a paper and laid it down on the table before moving on to another.

"You just said it was creepy."

"Well, don't get me wrong, Crane, you're a bit weird-"

"_I'm_ weird?"

"Let me finish," the Joker said slowly, his voice deep and clearly irritated.

Jonathan stood still and waited for him to continue.

"You're a bit weird, but that's why I liked you. And you didn't disappoint, at least not with your fear toxin."

Jonathan looked down, the memory of Batman flooding into his mind, and of the deathly grip the man robed in black had had on him. He was too ashamed to admit that his own toxins had been released on himself.

"By the way," the Joker started. "You never used any on me. I've always wondered why." He looked over suddenly, his back slumped and the expression on his face amused.

Jonathan looked calmly into the Joker's brown eyes and took a deep breath. "I never intended to," he replied.

"Care to share why?" The ruffle of newspapers shuffled loudly against the silence of the room.

"I just-" Jonathan paused, unsure of what to say. "I didn't want to mess with your mind." _Though I would have eventually_, he thought to himself.

The Joker nodded his head. "Sounds like a real bullshit reason there, Doc."

Jonathan gritted his teeth.

"Wanna tell me the real reason?"

"That is the real reason. You were so..so different, from any other patient at Arkham. You interested me. I didn't want to spoil your frame of mind, your way of thinking."

The Joker raised his brows. "Touching. You almost sound like you mean it."

"I do."

The Joker looked up at him seriously for a few seconds before his face relaxed and a crooked smile formed on his lips. His tongue ran over them quickly, wetting the dry cracks and creases etched into his skin.

Jonathan's stomach growled loudly at that moment, which made the Joker raise a brow at him. "Hungry, Crane? Why don't you go get us something. Haven't stocked the fridge in a week."

"You want me to buy groceries?"

"Well we've gotta eat something. Here," he said, standing up. He dug into his pocket and pulled out some folded bills. "Here's a fifty. Gotta ration money for right now so buy the cheap brands." He nodded his head as he held out the money, two twenties and a ten.

Jonathan took the money and stood for a few seconds, debating whether or not he should leave at the moment.

"Could come in handy, you doing errands for me," the Joker said as he sat back down. "You could be my errand boy."

Jonathan nodded before turning on his heel for the bedroom. The Joker seemed to take no notice of his leave as he shut the door behind him. And when Jonathan emerged from the bedroom the man on the couch didn't glance up until he took his previous place where he had stood earlier.

When the Joker looked up he made a face at the faded black suit Jonathan was wearing. "No offense, Doc, but you really gotta get you some new threads."

"I don't have anything. No money, no clothes, nothing."

"Except that bag you clutch onto."

"As you can see, I've left it."

The Joker raised a brow at the sophistication in his voice. "Well," he said, clicking his tongue. "I'll see what I can dig out for you in my drawers, though they might be a loose fit."

Jonathan glared softly down at the Joker with his eyes for a few moments before turning. "I'll see you later, then."

"Have fun, kiddo."

That comment made Jonathan turn halfway as he made his way to the front door. He cocked a brow, his face amused, before turning back and heading out, leaving the Joker alone.

* * *

It was evening by the time Jonathan got back to the Joker's apartment. He wondered if the land lord had noticed he had been living with him for the past four days but figured that it didn't matter in a dump like this. He hadn't even seen the landlord anywhere around. When the Joker had opened the door for him he had dropped a bag, spilling all of its contents onto the floor. Luckily, the Joker had helped him and now they were both stocking the cabinets and fridge.

"Macaroni," the Joker said, as he read the label on one of the boxes. "Let's eat that."

Jonathan, though he hated cooking, didn't mind too much doing it himself if it meant he got to eat. He had bought a hot dog from one of the vendors earlier but he was still hungry and could use more to fill his stomach. He dug around the cabinets for a small pot and, when he found one, filled it with a bit of water.

It didn't take long to fix. As he stirred the noodles he would glance up at the Joker every once in a while as he sat on the couch, transfixed in his newspapers. Why was he looking at the Joker anyway? Before long they were both sitting together on the couch, a bowl in each of their hands. To Jonathan's surprise, the Joker actually took his mind away from the papers to eat and lean back against the couch.

"What is this you're doing?" Jonathan asked, gesturing toward the newspapers as he swallowed a bite of macaroni.

The Joker sniffed and took a bite himself. "I'll see if you can decode it later, on your own."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because, _Crane_, that would be too easy. If you're going to work with me you've gotta be able to figure me out."

"None of those guys you have down at the warehouse seem to understand you at all." Another bite of macaroni.

"So, are you saying that _you_ understand me, Crane? Hm?"

"I wasn't implying that but-" he paused, unsure of how to phrase his next words. "If anyone were to fully understand you it would be me."

"Ah, because you're the psychiatrist." He nodded as he brought his fork to his mouth.

"It isn't because I've been smacked with a label," Jonathan said, a bit defensively. "You and I both are more experienced than any of those boys and you know it."

"Experienced how, Crane? Do tell."

"Well, both of us share the same desire for Gotham. We want to see it go down. I feel..I don't know, a connection with you. That we're on the same page, the same level. That we're seeing things from the same bird's eye view." He had placed his bowl in his lap and his eyes looked distant as he glared at the wall in front of him, thinking too deeply.

The Joker didn't say anything back. For a few seconds the silence between them grew awkward. That is, until the Joker suddenly placed his bowl on the table. "I gotta go," he said, standing up.

This ripped Jonathan from his thoughts. He thought that he and the Joker would get into a conversation, one that would lead them somewhere about his past or even just for comfort. He looked down in disappointment, wondering why he was so upset that the Joker was leaving.

"Don't worry, Doc," the Joker said, seeing Jonathan's face fall. "I won't be gone for long. Don't miss me too much." He grinned before turning for the door.

After it slammed shut Jonathan sighed. The Joker's leave had been so sudden. He hadn't liked that. He had been enjoying their conversations lately. He bit his lip as he realized that he _did_ miss the Joker, or at least his presence. Having someone nearby was comforting, and he liked the Joker, despite what he had already put him through.

As Jonathan finished eating he looked down at the newspapers on the table. Several of them had pictures of various people, some of which looked familiar to him, or at least their name. As he skimmed his eyes through the pictures on different pages, something in his brain begin to tick. All of the people in the pictures seemed to share a resemblance: they were all politicians of Gotham. Jonathan swallowed hard as this fact came to him. Whatever the Joker was planning, it involved something big.


	6. Touching Scars

**Chapter 6 – Day 5 (that night)**

Jonathan was pouring himself a cup of chocolate milk, something he never grew tired of, when the front door slammed against the wall hard. He jumped at the sound and his eyes widened, his heart pounding hard against his chest. He stood still where he was but relaxed when he saw the Joker come into view, whom was breathing roughly and holding the side of his thigh.

"Red?" Jonathan asked, using the name that the Joker had wanted him to use.

The Joker looked up at him, as if he had just noticed him, and pursed his lips. "Alright Crane, nothing but a scratch," he said as he limped his way to his bedroom. He grunted as he lost his footing and fell against the frame of the door.

Jonathan followed behind him and grabbed his arm to help him up.

"I'm fine," the Joker growled, pushing him away.

"I'm only trying to help. What happened?"

"Fuck, just wait a minute." The Joker flipped on the lights in the bathroom and quickly took off his brown jacket.

When Jonathan looked at the place the Joker had been holding his heart seemed to stop. His pants on the side of his right leg was soaked with blood. "God, you're bleeding," he whispered, his voice suddenly shaky.

"No shit, really?" The Joker said calmly, looking up at him and shaking his head. He held his face straight as he attempted to pull off his pants.

"You need to cut them off."

"I'm not gonna ruin a pair of pants for a stab wound."

"It looks bad. I insist," Jonathan retorted.

The Joker, ignoring Jonathan in the doorway, pursed his lips as he tried to push his pants down. Jonathan, his hand on the door frame of the bathroom, watched as the man before him succeeded in taking off his brown pants. All that was left was his underwear, and though the wound was below his waistline, the blood had still soaked into part of the white material he wore. With another growl, he grabbed a nearby towel hanging over the shower and pressed it to his wound.

Jonathan realized when he saw the blood running down his leg just how bad it was, or could be. "Do you have a first aid kit?" he asked.

"Yeah, somewhere," the Joker grumbled, closing his eyes as he pressed the towel to his leg. "Under the counter." His eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head as he pointed toward the sink.

Jonathan quickly reacted by opening the cabinets under the sink. He scrambled around briefly before finding a white box. When he brought it out he quickly set it on the counter and looked through the contents inside, his hands shaking.

"Easy there, Doc, it's not like this is going to be my first scar."

Jonathan slowed down a bit at that. "I'm sure it won't be your last, either."

The Joker rolled his eyes as he bobbed his head from side to side, as if he was listening to music.

"Why don't you sit down?" Jonathan asked calmly.

"Why should I?"

"To alleviate blood flow."

"Well, aren't you the smart doctor. I do know what I'm doing, you know."

"Keep holding the towel against it. You shouldn't have pulled your pants off."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes the bleeding worse." Jonathan turned and suddenly pressed his own hand to the towel firmly. When he looked up at the Joker he noticed his face looked stressed. "You look pale. How long ago did this happen?"

The Joker puckered his lips as he seemed to think, then he sighed heavily. "Probably about twenty minutes."

"And you _walked_ all the way back here?"

"Halfway. I took the bus."

"You need to relax. You look like you're about to faint."

"I actually feel kinda good, kinda high."

"Come on," Jonathan said, taking his arm in his hand. The way the Joker was responding to his own pain was a bit odd.

"I can walk by myself, Crane."

"I thought all dogs needed to be walked."

The Joker chuckled lightly at that. "Only by their masters, Crane, which you are not."

Jonathan removed his hand from his arm, but he followed close behind as the Joker made his way into the bedroom. As he sat on the bed his eyes rolled back again just like before, but he remained calm. He was also licking his lips every few seconds, no doubt a nervous habit of his. Jonathan had the first aid kit in his hand, ready to use. There were two big bandages that were hopefully thick enough to hold some of the blood for a time. Right now, he just had to keep the older man awake.

"How did this happen?" Jonathan suddenly asked.

The Joker closed his eyes and swallowed as he laid down on his back. "Ah..it was..a plan that backfired."

"Plan?"

"Don't worry about it."

Jonathan watched as the Joker took a few deep breaths, a faint smile forming on his lips. This was how the Joker dealt with pain. It was obvious he felt the wound from his leg, it showed in his pale face. But the way he handled it, it was so calm and amusing, as if he was getting some sort of silent pleasure from it all. This alone was enough to make Jonathan's interest for him spark even more. He couldn't help admiring him for the way he was reacting. It made him feel odd, funny, a bit excited.

He was suddenly looking forward to being his sidekick, that is, if the Joker wanted him as that. He sure acted like it.

* * *

Jonathan took a breath as he made his way into the bedroom, holding three Tylenol pills in his hand. "Here," he said, as he made his way around to where the Joker was.

The Joker rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I told you I don't want pills, Crane," he growled.

"It's going to lessen the pain."

"I've felt worse. This is nothing."

"How are you going to get any sleep?"

"By laying my head on this pillow and shutting my eyes, like always." He sighed roughly as he dug his head down into his pillow.

"Alright," Jonathan started. "I'll just leave them here should you need them." He placed the three red pills on the chipped table beside the bed, just within reach of the Joker's hand, and turned.

"You sure you're a psychiatrist, Crane?" came the Joker's voice behind him. "Because you seem more like a mother to me."

Jonathan stopped in his tracks at that. What did he have to say to that sarcastic remark? He turned slowly until his eyes rested on the Joker's, dark and curious, tired and amused. He sighed as he glared into shades of brown. "I just don't want to be alone."

The Joker cocked an eyebrow. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

"Yes..but as bad as you were bleeding, on the verge of passing out, makes me wonder how you would have fared on your own."

The Joker raised his chin as he glared at Jonathan. "Come here, Crane."

Jonathan looked down, a bit reluctant at the dark voice that had just demanded him. Nonetheless, he moved forward and made his way to the side of the bed where the Joker was now sitting up.

"Come _here_," the Joker demanded again, his voice harsher this time. "Eye level."

Jonathan's heart was beginning to pound. What was the Joker trying to do? He hesitated as he sat down beside the wounded man on the bed, but he had done what he had told him to, just like an obedient dog. _Just like a puppet_, came a dark voice in his head. He recognized it as Scarecrow's, but dismissed it as he looked awkwardly down at the floor.

"Look at me," the Joker suddenly said, his voice a bit softer this time, but still harsh.

Jonathan looked over hesitantly, faltering, not wanting to look at the face with a voice that demanded him. He grunted as he was yanked by the collar of his shirt. The Joker pursed his lips as he gripped Jonathan's neck in his hand roughly.

"You see the scars on my face, Crane? You see them? Hm?"

Jonathan was shaking slightly. In this position, all he could think of was Batman, and when he had used his own toxin against him. He had had him in a deathly grip, just as the Joker had him now. "Y-yes," he replied.

"Tell me, _Crane_, how you think I _fared_ when I got these wonderful beauty marks. I want you to tell me." He brought him closer to his face, held him tighter.

"I-I don't know," Jonathan breathed.

"Maybe I should give you a hint," the Joker said. The sound of a pocket knife being ejected from its handle rang into his ears.

Jonathan reacted as he saw the light bounce off the steel of the blade. When it came to his face he tried to pull away but the Joker kept him locked into a strong hold. He tried to stay calm but it was hard. He himself relied on toxins and masks, whereas the Joker was a stronger man than himself, who never seemed to falter. Whatever his position, mask or no mask, he wanted to be the man in charge. And whatever position he was in, he always had a way to work around it, even if he was too weak.

The Joker cocked his head as he looked into Jonathan's eyes. "What's wrong? You look so uptight now. Don't worry, Crane, I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help ya out."

"Please-"

"Shh," the Joker cooed, glaring down at him, smoothing his face with this thumb. "I want you to touch my scars."

Jonathan blinked as the grip on his neck and face loosened. He felt confused, so his reaction was hesitant, a bit delayed, which only wore down the Joker's patience.

With a loud growl the Joker grabbed the back of Jonathan's neck and gripped his right wrist in his hand. "Touch my scars, Crane," he said darkly.

When Jonathan's fingers were pressed forcibly into the ridges on the Joker's face he winced. He felt like he was being violated, even though he was the one doing the violating. Still, he was being forced to do something he didn't want to do, and it was bothering him. When he attempted to draw back his arm the Joker tightened his grip on his neck, which made him react by shutting his eyes tightly.

"Tell me how they feel," the Joker demanded.

Jonathan didn't want to delay this time. "L-Like..smooth..they feel smooth. A bit..rough right here but.." He gasped as his hand cupped the left side of the Joker's face. With his eyes still closed he felt a bit safer, though he knew he wasn't. He was also shocked at himself for touching him the way that he was, with his palm pressed against his rigid skin while his thumb smoothed over the deep line that was his scar.

"Cra-a-ne," the Joker suddenly sang. "Look at me."

Jonathan slowly opened his eyes and swallowed hard. The grip on his neck was loosening and the hand on his wrist was pulling him away from his face. His heart sank when his hand retracted from his skin..

The Joker had seen his face fall and narrowed his eyes at him. "Tell me now, Crane, whether or not you think I can still fare on my own."

"Yes," Jonathan whispered. "I know that now."

"Good."

"But you don't remember how you got them." Though Jonathan was now free of the Joker's hands, he still hadn't looked away from him, nor moved. His shaking had subsided but he was still a bit perturbed.

"That's why I wanted you to tell me."

"I'd have to inspect them further."

The Joker raised a brow, his mood suddenly shifting from frightening to calm. "Aren't you disgusted?"

"No," Jonathan said, his eyes watering as he let out a small laugh.

"Why not?"

"Because they're a part of you. It's what makes you who you are."

The Joker seemed to consider this. "So how did they feel?"

"Nice," Jonathan breathed, shivering slightly as he thought of the Joker forcing his fingers to touch them. He hadn't lied. They had felt nice, but the force hadn't been a nice gesture.

"Would you do it again?"

Jonathan looked down, hesitating. "Y-yes, I would." Hearing himself say that was odd. He would honestly _touch_ his scars again? Is that what he had just said?

"You're really strange, Crane. Makes me wonder what else you're thinking about in that brain of yours."

"Many things."

"What do you think about me?" the Joker asked, his dark brown eyes never moving from his face.

"Mostly trying to figure you out. What makes you tick, what makes you happy, what..makes you feel better."

"Well you know what makes me tick and you know I like stirring up chaos, but feeling better..not sure about that one, Doc."

"I was trying to earlier."

"If I needed pills, I would have asked for it. Got it?"

Jonathan took a deep breath before sighing. "Yes," he remarked.

"Good. You can go now."

Jonathan was a bit surprised at his last comment but he was more than ready to leave the room. The Joker hadn't necessarily scared him, but his sudden mood shift had confused him a bit, which had made him feel nervous. He gripped the edge of the bed with his hands and pushed off onto his feet, but as he stood his legs wobbled. When he tried to take a step he fell to his knees onto the hard floor, his body shaking and exhausted. Clearly, this was a result of what the man on the bed had just done to him.

"Either you're a nervous wreck or I just make you swoon that much," came the Joker's voice, followed by that high-pitched laugh of his.


	7. Learning

**A/N: Thanks to those that have reviewed thus far. It's very hard keeping the Joker in character, that is why I follow Crane's point of view for the most part. His character is easier to understand, whereas the Joker..he's just completely mental and insane to the point where you just don't mess with his viewpoint at all unless confident. This fic kind of started out as something short and is beginning to turn into something long..so thanks again for reviews!**

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**Chapter 7 – Day 6**

It was early morning when Jonathan woke from another nightmare, only this time he woke screaming. The sound came deep, strong and healthy from his lungs, full of fear and agony, and his body wouldn't stop shaking. When he heard the sound of a gun being cocked he tensed, shaking even more as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

A lamp light turned on and he could hear the Joker growling beside him. He was suddenly being grabbed, which only made things worse. Something was happening to him. He began gasping quickly, hyperventilating loudly.

"Crane!" the Joker yelled darkly as he gripped his arms in his hands. "Stop it, calm the fuck down."

The Joker's voice was soothing but it didn't help much. Jonathan's head felt cold, almost numb, as he continued to breathe in and out quickly.

"You're gonna make yourself fucking pass out now stop," came the Joker's voice again, softer this time, and closer to his face. "Dreams aren't real. Fear isn't real."

Jonathan's breathing began to slow down as he heard the Joker's calm voice near his ear. His eyes were shut tightly and sweat was beading on his forehead. He had taken hold of the Joker's arms and gripped them tightly in his hands, as if he was a lifesaver. When he began feeling lightheaded his body suddenly relaxed, as if it was exhausted. His breaths were becoming slower but they were rough and sharp, as if it was hard to breathe. He ended up passing out on his pillow for ten seconds.

The Joker was amused. He glared down darkly at the panic stricken man just beside him, their bodies so close he could feel every ragged breath coming from his body. Pursing his lips, he moved his face so that his mouth was right up against Jonathan's ear. "Tell me what happened," he whispered.

Jonathan still had his eyes closed but he had stopped hyperventilating completely now. "T-They left me," he whispered softly.

"Who left you?"

"The man..the..priest..my grandmother..she dropped me off and..they took me to a room..and they left me..dark and..cold..full of..crows.." His voice sounded child-like and upset.

The Joker knew that Jonathan was vulnerable now, in a different state of mind, so he probed him further for questions he personally wanted the answers to. "Why did they do that?" he asked softly.

"They..they both think it..will help me.."

"Help you with what?"

"They think..God will meet me..make me..make me.." he suddenly stopped and moved slightly to sit up.

"No, no," the Joker said, holding him down with his arm. "Tell me more, Crane."

"I..I was lonely..I needed..someone..I just..it was..they.." He paused, cutting himself off. Jonathan suddenly felt confused now, as if reality was suddenly sinking in and he was coming out of his past dream into the real world. Within seconds he opened his eyes and turned his face to see the Joker beside him, smiling crookedly down at him. That smile bothered him.

"Pretty interesting dream there, Crane. Ever, uh, dream about me?"

Jonathan suddenly pushed him away and sat up. With a few rough breaths he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands.

"Boy, did you have a weird past. Grow up with religious nuts, Crane?" The Joker's voice was still calm behind him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said. He rubbed his eyes and laid back down.

"Suit yourself. Could you try and tone down the screaming? I don't want the crackheads outside thinking I'm raping you."

Jonathan gritted his teeth as something came to his mind. "Why did you do that?"

"What?"

"Probe me like that."

"I wanted to know what all the screaming was about."

Jonathan could feel the Joker's eyes on him. He was too close. "You could've just asked me earlier."

"You're easy to get information out of when you're broken," the Joker retorted.

Jonathan pursed his lips. "Would you stop saying that?" He was slightly annoyed.

"Saying what?"

"That I'm broken? I'm not broken, I'm just a bit edgy."

"I'd say you're more than a bit edgy, Doc, but I've gotta hand it to you, you've got a nice set of lungs there. Thought I was gonna get to use this gun for a second."

"On what?" Jonathan asked nervously.

"Not you. Thought someone might be in here."

"Look, I'm sorry about waking up like that. I wish I could control it but I can't."

"You're kinda cute when you get all worked up like that."

Jonathan didn't say anything to that. What_ was_ he supposed to say?

The Joker chuckled lightly as he shifted on the bed. "So you're a screamer? The quiet, lanky types like you usually are pretty crazy in bed."

Jonathan rolled his eyes and looked away.

"No?" The Joker glared at him intensely until he turned back around.

"No," Jonathan said sharply, annoyed.

The Joker suddenly narrowed his eyes and thought a moment. "So," he started. "You ever been with anyone, Doc? Sexually, that is."

_Why is he asking me this?_ Jonathan thought. He thought a moment, trying to go back through his childhood. There was only one person in his whole life that he had slept with and she was dead now.

"Look, I'm not gonna make fun of you if you're a virgin-"

"Yes," Jonathan said loudly, cutting him off.

"Yes you've slept with someone or-?"

"Yes," Jonathan repeated, through clenched teeth this time.

"Ah, care to share?"

"What is there to tell? You don't know her."

"I thought we'd bond, open up a little."

Jonathan's heart seemed to stop. Was the Joker going to open up to him? Maybe he should go along with this for right now. It wasn't like he could sleep anyway. He didn't want to go back into his nightmare and wake up screaming again. "Alright," he said.

"How old were you?" The Joker's voice was dark. He had placed his hands behind his head on the pillow and was now staring up at the ceiling.

"Twenty-one, when I was in college."

"One night stand?"

Jonathan opened his mouth but hesitated. "I..dated her for about ten months."

"Ah, serious guy, hm?" The Joker sounded amused. "So, uh, what happened?"

"She broke it off."

"Let me guess. Another guy?"

"No. It was me. I..frightened her away."

The Joker was suddenly very interested now. "What'd you do to her?"

"I used her for some of my experiments. It got out of hand. I didn't blame her for breaking it off."

"And where is she now?"

Jonathan sighed inwardly but he felt nothing. "Dead."

"How?"

"Car accident. Two years after we split."

"Was she beautiful?" The Joker asked. His voice sounded curious.

"Yes," Jonathan replied. "I never could understand how someone as beautiful as her loved someone like me."

"Love," the Joker said darkly, as if he was mocking the word. "Only a chemical in the brain, yet humans put so much effort into it."

"It doesn't matter. We can lose our desire to love. That part of my brain simply doesn't function anymore."

"Now you're speaking my language, Crane. But you've got one thing wrong."

Jonathan turned to look at the Joker. "What?" he asked.

"You can't understand why someone beautiful would go for someone like you, but I can see why. You're far from a bad looking guy."

Jonathan turned his face back to look at the ceiling, his heart suddenly beating rapidly. "Um, thanks, I guess," he said, his cheeks going pink.

The Joker chuckled lightly as he looked away. "It's called a compliment. I have a feeling you don't take those too well."

"I've had a low self-esteem since childhood."

"Hard to tell by the way you walk and talk."

"Don't we all hide something about ourselves?"

"Yeah, just like you're hiding something now, from me."

"What do you want me to say?" Jonathan was getting annoyed again. "I've told you about me. What about you?"

"There's nothing for me to tell you."

"I thought we were opening up."

"No, _you_ were. I never said I was."

"You're a jackass," Jonathan said, before turning on his side.

The Joker laughed, obviously getting a kick out of the name calling. "Oh come on, Crane. Why so serious?" He shifted from his spot and moved up close behind Jonathan. "You want me to tell you about someone, Crane? Hm? Alright."

Jonathan jumped slightly when he felt the Joker's hand grip his right shoulder. He could feel his breath on his ear, so close. "Who?" he asked nervously.

The Joker chuckled lightly. "I met someone once. Beautiful too, like you. But my scars were too much for her. They drove her away. Scared her. Much like your situation." The Joker paused to sigh deeply. "Then I met you, in that wonderful asylum. I remember when you first came to see me. You were so fine and polished but I knew there was something different about you. Something unique."

Jonathan closed his eyes as he felt the Joker twist the sleeve of his shirt in his fingers, obviously occupying himself while he told his story.

"And you were the only person in that whole god damned place who even bothered with trying to help me," the Joker continued, shaking his head, though his voice held a hint of amusement. "I admit, I've been a fan of Dr. Crane for a long time."

That comment made Jonathan feel dizzy. What was the Joker trying to say? "How does your past relationships have anything to do with me?" he asked, confused.

"Well, you didn't let me get to my point. You see, I kinda grew fond of you in that place, I gotta admit. And then, when I met you again here, well, just stirred my emotions right back up."

_Joker likes Jon_. Jonathan rolled his eyes at the voice in his head. It was only psychological. He could will that dark, cruel voice away if he wanted to. "Why would you feel anything for me?"

"Like the Batman, I like the way you make me feel. It's a mind thing, really."

"So you're comparing me to him. Thanks."

"No, Crane," he whispered, his breath on Jonathan's ear. "I'm using him as an example. Even though I haven't come face to face with the bastard. Luckily, you have."

"It wasn't a pleasant experience."

"Obviously not," the Joker said, pushing himself away from Jonathan. "I mean, just look at you. He's ruined everything and you almost killed yourself because of it."

Jonathan clenched his teeth at that, though he missed the hand on his shoulder. It had been a comfort. He had liked it, though he couldn't say the same for his words. "It's in the past," he said, before settling his head into his pillow.

The lamp light suddenly turned off and the Joker was near his ear again. "Now you've learned something," he said, before chuckling briefly.

Jonathan smiled slightly as the Joker pulled back to lay down. They had just accomplished a decent conversation that ended well. He liked that. It made him feel better, as if they were getting somewhere, even though their talk had been a bit odd. Despite his nightmare, he was glad he had woken up. He liked the Joker, perhaps a little more than he should, but that was fine. He didn't mind that one bit.


	8. Mentality

**Chapter 8 – Day 17**

Jonathan quickly put out his cigarette and sighed as he entered the warehouse. It was dark and cold inside. The Joker didn't take risks with trying to put in a heating system, though he had considered a generator after it was suggested. _'Wouldn't want you to freeze your balls off, Doc, so if you want one that bad go out and get one.' _he had said. Jonathan rolled his eyes as he made his way down a large room filled with many boxes and crates. The Joker _kindly_ insulted him whenever he had the chance. He had also shifted moods earlier in the week, going from a bit chirpy to aggressive. _Yet another trait of his to make me interested in him more,_ Jonathan thought. He couldn't help but feel a certain way around the clown – he liked that he was mentally different, or disturbed as others would put it. When he had his face paint on he usually seemed upbeat and excited, but with his mask off he seemed to show his true colors more, the natural peach of his face reflecting the inner man within him.

Jonathan yawned as he began climbing the stairs at the end of the room. They lead up to the upper level, which housed a few of the Joker's henchmen, which weren't very many. There were only eight of them total in the warehouse: one man in his thirties, three in their twenties, and two teenagers. He and the Joker made eight. Jonathan had asked him where he found his men of various ages and the Joker had replied with _'Met four of them in Arkham and the other two on the street, attempting to rob a gas station. They needed a place to stay. Thought I would help them out'_.

Jonathan knew the true statement behind what the Joker had told him: _They needed a place to stay so I thought I would help them out in exchange for giving their souls over to me_. He pursed his lips. Maybe 'souls' was pushing it, but that was the idea that came to mind. Whoever joined the Joker was automatically tied to his plans. And since there were no rules in his plans, the risk of life and death was always taken, no matter what.

He shook his head as he made his way down the hallway, telling himself to stop thinking about the Joker. It was only making him tired, and the way things were going lately was only making things worse, or better. Better because the Joker had taken a strong liking to him, enough to call him his right-hand man, but worse because it was getting to him. He _liked_ being his right-hand man, and he _liked_ the Joker himself, more than he wanted to, but that was the problem. He didn't want to get attached to him, though he knew he already was.

He had given him money to buy some clothes, which was a relief on his part. It was always cash, too. The Joker had a stash that he had saved up over the years. Small robberies and low earned jobs, he claimed. And any jobs he had held in the past had always been done with a fake name, an alias of his that he said had 'died' a few years back. Jonathan had taken that as him quitting the norm of the average working man in society, and giving himself over to something different.

Jonathan didn't mind. It had payed for his dark trench coat and new suit, as well as a few other things. It hadn't been expensive, of course, as it came from the thrift store, but it worked. He had kept his old brown shoes, however, that were already worn and dirty. The Joker had commented on his attire by telling him that he didn't look as polished. Jonathan had agreed with him. Already his hair was longer and he was dressing grungier than he used to. Through it all, though, part of his old self still dwelled within him.

He suddenly came to a stop when he reached the end of one of the hallways, where a brown, sturdy door stood. On the other side was the room the Joker had told him to stay in while at the warehouse. He hated staying at the warehouse, he liked the Joker's apartment more. Jonathan looked down and bit his lip as the thought came to him. _Why_ did he like staying at the Joker's apartment? _Because I like sleeping with him_, he thought, as he pushed open the door. He made his way inside, closing the door behind him, and sat on his bed.

Sleep was something he wanted, but he didn't necessarily welcome it. A week had passed since his last nightmare, which he had been grateful for, but tonight felt like one of those nights. A night that felt like _that_ night, a couple of months ago, when Batman had ruined everything. Sometimes he felt miserable, ashamed of himself for fearing the Batman, even though the dark, masked man also thrilled him at the same time. It was the same thrill that the Joker felt, too, when he intimidated people.

Jonathan suddenly smiled and looked down at his hands. The Joker's room was just beside his own. A door connected them both, as the warehouse had been a place of storage, not for housing. He looked up at the door that lead to where the Joker slept. He knew he had to be asleep. It was 12 am, no doubt he would sleep through the rest of the night since he had been up for almost two days straight. He always fought sleep, his mind always moving. Jonathan couldn't go without sleeping, even though he tried. If anything, he wanted his mind to slow down. That's why he took to smoking. It helped him forget everything going on for a short time, and also calmed him down.

He thought about going to sleep now, but couldn't, or rather didn't want to. He had a feeling that the Joker wasn't asleep either, judging from the shuffling coming from the other side of the door. Jonathan pursed his lips and stood up, taking off his coat as he did. Maybe they could just talk. More than likely the Joker was bored. As wanted criminals it was hard to go out into the streets of Gotham at night. The Batman was always watching, always there. And that left them indoors to plan their dirty work.

Jonathan took a few steps forward and when his hand touched the wood of the door his heart began beating fast. _Get a hold of yourself, Jon,_ he thought. He took a deep breath and knocked lightly two times. He heard all noise stop on the other side, then the sound of the door opening before him. He froze when he saw the Joker glare down at him from the other side, his face paint gone from earlier and his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, which looked damp, more than likely from a shower.

"What do you want, Crane?" he asked, his voice a bit annoyed.

"I..just wanted to see what you were doing."

The Joker looked around him. "Well, as you can see, I'm not doing anything _strenuous_, as your dirty little mind is probably thinking."

"No. I was just wondering if you..wanted some company."

The Joker raised his brow as he glared down at him, his eyes half lidded. He gave him a brief, amused stare before moving aside to let him in.

As Jonathan made his way inside he heard the door close behind him. He liked being alone with the Joker, especially at times of the night like now. The room was lit with old lamps that burned with oil. The dim light seemed to ease both their minds, especially the Joker's since he was usually so high strung. As he looked around the room he heard the Joker sniff behind him. When the mask-less Joker came up close to him, sniffing the collar of his shirt, he moved his head back slightly, his face questioning why he was being sniffed.

"Taken a liking to smoking, Crane?" the Joker asked as he moved away.

"An old habit I've picked back up on."

"Just do me a favor and pick up your butts from off the ground. Stuff like that leaves traces."

"I understand," Jonathan said. "I've been putting them out in a bottle just inside the warehouse."

"Smart man. Why don't you have a seat?"

Jonathan grunted as he was suddenly pushed down onto the bed.

"Ah Crane." The Joker sighed as he sat down beside him. He slung his right arm over Jonathan's shoulder and rested his head against his temple. "You know I've been missing you sleeping with me, Doc. Been missing your stupid screaming and wailing at night."

Jonathan looked down. He honestly wasn't sure if the Joker was mocking him or not. It was hard to tell, but he had a feeling he was being serious. "Funny. My nightmares seemed to stop when I started sleeping here, alone."

"You don't like to be alone, Crane." The Joker's voice sounded slow and tired.

"Maybe not all the time but I'm not alone now. You have people living here."

"No," the Joker corrected, rocking his body against him a couple of times with his hand. "You're not alone because you have _me_."

"Yes, that too."

"There are two meanings. Being alone and feeling alone." There was sarcasm in his voice, as if he despised the very idea. "But why do you _feel_ alone, Crane? Loneliness makes you weak."

"I'm only human."

"What do I have to do to make you not feel like that, hm? You're the psychiatrist, not me."

"Not anymore," Jonathan said, looking down. "That man is gone."

The Joker continued to let his arm drape loosely across Jonathan's shoulders. "You've got to fall before you can pick yourself up. Start getting a motivation. You're gonna need one."

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. He felt the Joker remove his friendly arm from his shoulders and could now see from the corner of his eye that he had laid down on the bed.

"Why don't you tell me your real problem, Doc. Why you're sighing and why you're in this room." His voice sounded tired.

"I just wanted to talk with someone. Unfortunately, you and I are the only ones that seem to understand fully any plans we have. None of those men down there are in it for the sheer pleasure of their minds. They just want money." Jonathan suddenly grunted as the Joker's hand grabbed the back of his collar. The man lying on his back roughly pulled him down beside him so that they were side by side on their backs.

"Honestly, Crane," he said. "Where have you been my whole life?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jonathan said, looking over at him. "I was too busy creating a fear toxin that would drive every person in Gotham insane."

"And I was busy planning. Once people start realizing that they can live without rules, they'll start to understand themselves. It's all a part of the plan, and though they think themselves civilized, they aren't. No one truly is. Even those religious fanatics underestimate the true chaos within themselves. They fight back, like everyone else."

Jonathan swallowed hard, hesitating, but he found himself agreeing. "So what brought you to this perspective?" he asked, curious.

The Joker leaned over so that his face was near Jonathan's. "I came to grips with the man I saw in the mirror." His voice was dark and deep.

Jonathan got the point as the Joker literally got in his face. His scars had made him embrace himself for who he truly was and there was no way around it. No matter how he had gotten them, or if he had caused them himself – Jonathan simply didn't know – one thing was for certain: they were a part of him now and had formed a chunk of his personality, which Jonathan was beginning to like.

"You see, Crane, everything falls into place. Maybe not by _fate_, but by chance. My genius mind and your charming skills will get us both what we want. And that's Gotham. Only you want to turn everyone into loons; I want to turn them into free men, men of chaos, men that follow themselves. Survival of the fittest."

Jonathan sighed heavily, letting the Joker's words soak in. "Well I don't want to make 'loons', as you would put it. Instability of the mind has been an obsession of mine. It's invigorating to watch, to see, to make. It pumps me full of adrenaline. But messing with one's mind doesn't make them 'loony', it simply makes them different from how they previously were."

"Which brings me to my next question. I was in your asylum," the Joker started. "You tested me. What was your diagnosis, Doctor?"

Jonathan raised a brow and hesitated, looking down at his hands that he had clasped together on his stomach. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'd like to see what kind of man I am mentally."

"I think you already know."

"Then tell me _your_ mental instability."

"I don't have one."

"Ah." The Joker seemed amused. "Then how come two criminal men like you and me have the same _sick_ – as the people of Gotham would put it – goal, yet I get framed as 'mentally unstable' while you get nothing? I think the little psych here has more 'instability' than he wants to share."

"Anyone who isn't like us is going to think we're either mentally insane or criminally dangerous. Or both. I admit to diagnosing people, yes, but I have never viewed my own self as mental."

"But you'd smack that label on me easily," the Joker said, placing his hands behind his head.

"No," Jonathan started. "I may have labeled you and other patients back at Arkham, but the thing is, everyone in that asylum was just as normal as me and everyone else in this world. They were just broken men, unable to come to grips with themselves, just as you have stated. Some minds are slower, some not as bright. Some lack common sense and others are sheltered. To society, you and I are psychopaths, anarchists who want nothing more than to see others follow in our footsteps. But you and I know that there is much more to it than just that."

The Joker smiled crookedly. "Gotta say, Doc, your ideas are flattering. Shame others can't see it the same way. So, ah, would you consider me _normal_, Doc?"

Jonathan thought a moment. "I don't think that anyone is truly normal. I think people get ideas, and if it's wrong, goes against what we were taught as a society, then it becomes a taboo, a crime, a sin."

"Well, glad you think that, Doc, cause' I don't think you're normal."

"I'm not the one that wears face paint."

"You don't see me running around with a potato sack on my head, do you?"

Jonathan shut up after that one. He figured he'd let the Joker have the last call. Besides, he was too tired to delve deeper into the conversation. As the room got quiet Jonathan closed his eyes and, within seconds, began to drift off to sleep.

* * *

_The birds are everywhere. They make me shiver. And every time I look up at them they caw at me, as if I'm not supposed to be there, as if I'm invading their space. The tears stream down my face but I can't make a sound. Instead I just sit on the ground and pull my knees up to my chest. There's nothing holy about this place. I don't feel welcome. I feel afraid. When I hear the crows calming down I look up. I'm more afraid now. They're all staring at me, their black eyes menacing and cold. I don't like being here. I just want to scream.._

Jonathan woke with a gasp, his heart pounding quickly as sat up, rather abruptly. As his eyes strained against the soft, blue light coming in from the window his mind reverted back to full consciousness. Seeing that it was morning, he shut his eyes in relief, grateful that what he had dreamed was in the dark of his past. When he laid his arm down beside him he suddenly opened his eyes wide. He was still in the Joker's bed, though the clown himself was no where to be found.

With a tired yawn Jonathan looked up at the clock sitting on the desk just across from the bed. _What could the Joker possibly be doing at 8:30 am?_ He thought. With a sigh, Jonathan set his feet on the cold concrete and stood straight. Then he made his way to the door that lead to the room he should have slept in last night. He wondered what the Joker thought of him. It was obvious he didn't mind him too much. To the Joker he was important, and that made him feel good.

As soon as Jonathan entered his room he pulled on his shoes and his trench coat. Then he made his way out the door and into the hallway, ready to meet the Joker for whatever he had planned for the day.


	9. Odd Encounter

**Chapter 9 – Day 20**

Jonathan sighed as he took off his shirt. It had been a long day, full of loading and unloading boxes and crates that had been packed away into the warehouse. What was in them, he honestly didn't know, but he had a good idea of what they could be. All he knew was that the Joker was obviously in good supply of what he was planning for Gotham.

The more Jonathan watched the man delve into his fantasy, or reality, the more he wanted to do something himself. He thought about using his toxin again, but in a different way. If he couldn't get the chemical out to everyone in Gotham like originally planned, then perhaps he could conduct a way of his own to release it. Only one thing stood in his way: The Joker.

He looked over at the door that lead to the clown's room. He couldn't conduct experiments behind his back. Eventually, after thinking on it, he would propose the plan to him. But now wasn't the best time to bring it up. He wanted to get closer to him first. The Joker had already dubbed him his right hand man, so he was already a step in the right direction.

_Tap, tap, tap-tap-tap-tap._

Jonathan jerked his head up and averted his eyes to the door as the tapping noise continued. He rolled his eyes as he made his way to the door – on the other side the Joker was continuing a string of taps, as if he was trying to make music. When he opened the door the man on the other side paused, his hand frozen in the air with his index finger poked out.

"Well," the makeup-less Joker said. "You don't look too happy, Crane. Did I, uh, disturb you?" He looked wryly down at him, then around the room.

"No," Jonathan said firmly. "Just about to sleep."

"Hm." The Joker looked down at him and sighed, as if thinking something. "How come you never sleep with your shirt off when you're with me, Doc?"

Jonathan raised a brow before turning around. "I don't. I was just about to put another one on." As he made his way to his drawer beside his bed he suddenly heard the door shut behind him. He paused, his stomach suddenly twisting, and turned his head. Then his heart seemed to stop.

The Joker was still in the room, standing with his shoulders slumped, and his dark eyes glaring at him. Jonathan turned back and took out a navy blue shirt. He quickly pulled it on and turned around to face the Joker, although the man was making him feel uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to say that today went well, Doc. I couldn't have done it without you. The way you talked your way in. It was so.." The Joker paused and looked up, as if thinking of what to say. "Professional," he finished, his eyes resting wearily on him now.

Jonathan nodded his head slightly. "My thanks. Negotiating isn't hard."

"No, it's not."

Jonathan cleared his throat and looked away. The Joker's dark eyes were bothering him, and the creeping half smile playing on his face was making his stomach twist.

"What's wrong? You look nervous, Doc."

"I'm just tired."

"You can tell me, Crane, I promise I won't bite. Bark maybe, but not bite."

Jonathan sighed and looked at him, unsure of what to tell him. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

"I want you to tell me why you're so uncomfortable right now."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I can see it on your face."He took a step closer to him. "You don't like me getting this close, do you? You don't even like me staring at you."

"Well, it is a bit awkward, considering the circumstances," Jonathan stated clearly, his chin held firmly.

"And what circumstance is that, huh?"

"Two guys alone in a room. If anyone walked in right now they'd-"

"They'd what?" The Joker cut him off, his voice a bit harsh.

Jonathan looked up at him and held back a smile. "They'd get the wrong idea," he finished, his eyes relaxed now.

"I believe it was _you_, Crane, that came crawling to my bed the other night. So why is it so different now?"

Jonathan opened his mouth but quickly closed it as he had no response. He looked down, pondering what to say, then looked back up quickly. "I didn't intend to fall asleep in your room that night. I came to you wanting to talk."

"Isn't that what we're doing now? Just talking?" The Joker suddenly chuckled as he took another step toward Jonathan. "Face it, Crane, I make you nervous. Just one glare at you and I can feel your tension. Something you don't like, or something you're not telling me?"

"No, I just..feel different around you."

"Is it the scars?"

"No."

"Then what?" The Joker took another step.

Jonathan took a step back now. The Joker was close, too close, and it _was_ making him nervous. But the other man didn't stop. He took another step as Jonathan continued to back up. He wasn't sure of what was going on but he had an odd feeling something was about to happen. Good or bad, he didn't know. The man's dark eyes and menacing steps eventually drove him into the wall. He felt so vulnerable, so weak and ashamed for being stripped down like this.

The Joker smiled crookedly as he looked down at Jonathan's face. "Now you really do look nervous," he said softly.

"Perhaps it's because you've backed me up against the wall, and I have no idea why."

The Joker narrowed his eyes at him as he drew in closer to his face. "Touch my scars, Crane," he whispered.

"Why?"

"Just do it." The Joker's words came out as a hiss and he had closed his eyes, as if trying to control himself.

Jonathan felt confused. The man before him was making his heart pound, in both good and bad ways. The bad he understood but the good he was having trouble with. He found the Joker attractive, despite his scars, and didn't hesitate as he touched them with his fingertips.

The Joker's eyelids remained shut as Jonathan smoothed his fingers over the lumps and ridges of his scars. Jonathan's fingers were cold on his face, but he liked the odd, tingling feeling it gave him on the parts he could feel.

Jonathan held his breath as he continued to feel at the scars. When his index finger traced over the Joker's lips he almost pulled back, until the Joker took the tip of his finger into his mouth. Jonathan cringed at first, his whole body going tense, but as he felt the warmth and wetness of the Joker's mouth, he relaxed slightly. It made him feel a bit different, made him grind his teeth. And when the Joker ran his tongue over his finger..

Jonathan suddenly pushed the Joker away and retreated his finger. _What the hell just happened?_ He thought. His body hadn't felt that good in a long time but he was shocked that the Joker could give him such a feeling. A feeling that made his stomach feel gooey and his regions down south fill. Furthermore, he had been shocked at the act altogether. Was the Joker trying to turn him on?

The Joker suddenly chuckled. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you liked that, Doc."

"Stop calling me that," Jonathan said.

"How about I call you Jon? Would you like that? Hm?"

"You can call me whatever you want, just stop calling me that."

The Joker chuckled a few times. "Sweet dreams, Crane," he said, before turning on his heel and making his way to his own room.

When the door closed Jonathan let out a few breaths he had been holding in. What did the Joker just do? And why had he done it? Jonathan sat down on his bed, his head wavering, as the heat flushed to his face. _Joker likes Jon_. He bit his lip as he thought this. The Joker clearly had nothing against getting close to another guy. He broke rules instead of following them. The same went for morals, though he was oddly particular about certain things.

_This is too much_, Jonathan thought. _But now I_ _want to know what he thinks of me_. He shook his head as he laid down on his bed. The light from the lamp made the room glow, and was also making his eyes tired. _It would take years just to make him spill anything_. Jonathan hoped that he would have years to spend with the Joker. He liked the man that seemed to be older than himself by a couple of years. At least, his scars made him look older. Jonathan could see past any aging aspect, however. He could tell that, had his skin been smooth and the circles under his eyes gone, he would appear younger.

As Jonathan thought this, along with the awkward event that had just taken place moments earlier, he drifted off to sleep, his mind confused as he thought about the Joker.

* * *

_He feels good. Real good. Especially when he brushes his lips against my neck. They're so soft but that one place where the small scar nudges on the border of his bottom lip, that place makes me smile. He makes my body feel on fire, like it's ready to explode, but I hold it all in. I wait for him to make a move. His skin is so clammy and pale. I think he's sick..but he keeps on with me, pressing his body against mine, against the wall, his lips on mine..until I feel..something wet. My hand has touched something. I look down. My fingers are red. I look at his waist..his shirt is soaked with blood. I look up at his face, a bit panicked, and suddenly the paint is there, seeming to bleed. He looks so clammy..so pale..as he takes a step back from me. He's got a rifle in his hand..but he lets it fall to the ground. Then he continues on..backing away..until he's no longer visible..and I'm left alone...in complete darkness.._

Jonathan's eyes flew open but he hadn't panicked this time, like so many other times when he had dreamed. This one was different, but strange. It was the first time he had dreamed about the Joker. For a first dream, he was a bit embarrassed by what had happened in it, though it ended oddly. He had once studied that dreams held bits of elements from peoples' lives that were important to them. In other words, anything that went on in the dream with the Joker was emotional, and reflected upon something he was feeling. The blood, however, and him turning away with the gun was a mystery.

_Joker likes Jon and Jon likes him back_. "No," Jonathan growled as he sat up in his bed. The light was still on and he shivered as he realized how cold the room was. He had fallen asleep on top of his blankets rather than in them. He sighed as he looked over at the Joker's door. The man on the other side, or wherever he was now, was getting to him. Despite any denials, Jonathan couldn't lie to himself.

"I do like him," he whispered, to no one. _But it's a strange kind of infatuation. He understands me and I understand him. We belong together, even if it's just as criminals, as allies. We make sense. And that's all I need._


	10. Savior

**Chapter 10 – Day 22**

Jonathan squinted his blue eyes as they rested on the island just across the bay. The island that was now a threat and blocked off for the crime that went on there. That is where Arkham stood, or what was left of it. He needed to get there; he wanted to recruit some men for the Joker, and he knew that some of Gotham's finest would be just there, looking for something or someone besides the law to save them. Of course there was no way to get onto the island, directly. If he wanted transportation, he would have to plan a way over there, with proper protection of course. He figured once he hatched his plan to the Joker, the clown would agree to help him.

He sighed and licked his chapped lips. The air was getting colder and the day was beginning to wane into night. Jonathan knew he needed to go back to the warehouse, but he didn't want to, not at the moment. He felt like he was looking for something, but he wasn't sure what. The answer was quite clear, however. Deep inside himself he longed to see the Batman - the very man that had ruined everything for Ra's al Ghul's plans, and his own as well. But at least he still lived and could help the Joker carry out his plans for Gotham. Batman couldn't defeat everyone in the city, no matter how hard he tried.

He thought about it as he turned away from the bay and began to make his way down the sidewalk. He didn't hate Batman, but something about the masked crusader bothered him, irritated him. If he longed to see him now, it was only because he gave him a thrill; that thrill of chasing and being chased. That thrill of knowing that Batman was out prowling for guys like him, but was also unaware of the plans or hideouts where many dwelled. When it boiled down to it, he liked the cops and robbers game that Batman seemed to be playing with everyone else.

The evening sky was now casting a deep shadow over Gotham, blocking out all light and filling it with darkness. Jonathan picked up his pace as the street lights lit up. He wasn't exactly in the best part of Gotham. The crime rate was exceedingly worse where he was walking and the warehouse was still a good ways off. He would have to take the subway if he wanted to avoid the streets at night. He had walked these streets plenty of times before moving in with the Joker, but he had steered clear of walking at night. He had been stupid to stay out so late, but he almost didn't care, had no real fear. After all, he had studied into fear himself. _There is nothing to fear but fear itself_.

As he made his way down a beaten sidewalk, the sky now completely dark, he became aware of another presence close by. There were other people out walking, mostly homeless or questionable stragglers, but this presence was different. This he could feel on his heels. He was being followed. His heart began to beat faster but he went through a strategy in his head. The one time he needed his mask, the one time he needed Scarecrow and his fear toxin, he didn't have it with him. But Scarecrow had become a part of him, lived deep within him. If angered enough, he could possibly deal potential harm, though it seemed unlikely. But at the moment he couldn't call upon the Scarecrow inside himself for help. Right now, he was going over what he should do in his head.

Before Jonathan had left the warehouse earlier, the Joker had given him a cell phone. There was no list of contacts or any other information on the phone, however. The Joker was very discreet. He wanted nothing to trace back to him. _"So,"_ he had said. _"You answer whatever number calls you. More than likely, I'm the only one who will call. I never call from a direct phone number."_ Jonathan loved the Joker for thinking things through. It reminded him of himself. He was also glad to have a phone for contact purposes. He could now get in touch with people he knew, old friends that could possibly help him with getting his experiments back up and running.

He thought about the cell phone now tucked away in the coat of his pocket. All he had to do was pull it out, call the Joker, and ask him to pick him up. He wondered if the Joker would get mad at such a request, but given his current situation he was considering calling him anyway. When he picked up his pace he heard someone mumble behind him, but he refused to look back. Instead, he felt for the phone in his pocket and brought it out with his hand. He looked up, acting calm, as he began dialing the number he had been told to memorize earlier in the day. It was already too late now, though. He could feel his follower running behind him, he could literally feel what was about to happen.

That's when he began running. With the phone in his hand, the line ringing, his feet took him fast down the sidewalk. When the ringing stopped, and a voice answered, Jonathan got out "Tomlin Avenue" before his body was slammed into the sidewalk. His phone slipped from his hand and the left side of his face hit the concrete so hard it dazed him. As he looked over at his phone lying a few feet away, he saw a hand pick it up. He looked up with his eyes to see an older man wearing a large black overcoat and wool toboggan.

He tasted blood on his lip and felt his face burning against the cold concrete. He had hit the bone in his cheek roughly, and the impact hadn't felt good either. The pain made him wince as he attempted to get up.

"Take him," came a low voice from behind.

Jonathan scrambled to get to his feet but instead was grabbed by two hands. He didn't like that, not at all, so he fought to get away, but the hands gripped him harder, and so did another pair, fingers digging into his arms and sides. He yelled loudly, more out of trying to get away rather than for help. That earned him a punch to the face by one of them, which nearly knocked him out. He was neither a strong nor intimidating man. Without his gas, he was nothing, and he hadn't yet reached his full potential with Scarecrow, that dark part of him that seemed to only break loose at certain times.

He was feeling dizzy now, and if he risked getting punched again he knew he would possibly lose consciousness. For that reason, he decided not to fight against the three men surrounding him. As he looked around slowly, he realized that he was being dragged into a dark alleyway. He panicked, despite his earlier attempts at being rational. Being dragged away from the main street and into the alleys wasn't good.

When they were out of view of the street he was slammed against the brick wall of a building. He was immediately held down by the older man with the toboggan and another that looked middle-aged, while a man that looked younger than himself checked his clothes and pockets.

"Got anything else, pretty boy?" the young one hissed.

"Nothing but the clothes on my back," Jonathan slurred.

"Damn, Reg, you must have really knocked him senseless," the older man said.

The young man popped his knuckles. "That's what I'm good for." He turned to glare at Jonathan. "You don't even have anything on you. No cash, no cigs, no nothin'. Just a damn phone."

"Is that not good enough?" Jonathan asked slowly, his voice becoming hoarse.

"We didn't fucking drag you back here so we could walk away with nothin' good. You don't get to leave until we get somethin' from you."

"What are you going to do? Take my clothes?"

"He's kinda cocky," the middle-aged man stated. He grabbed the back of his neck and laughed as Jonathan winced.

"Yeah, he is," the young one said. He took out a knife and ran his finger down the blade. "You know, maybe he could work with us as payment. We need a new guy."

"Reg, you can't be serious," the middle-aged man said.

"If he does he's not bunking with me," the older man replied.

"He's too pretty. We could bunk him with Gavin, since pretty boys appeal to him. What do you say, you wanna join our little group?"

"I follow only one person and he is more than any of you wanna-be criminals put together," Jonathan stated, his eyes drooped as he held his chin high.

The young man named Reg chuckled and laughed as he looked away. "Wrong answer, you little shit."

Jonathan groaned loudly as he felt the man's fist dig into his stomach. He would have fallen to his knees had the two men beside him not been holding him up. But now his head was hung over and he was gasping for air.

"Let's waste this little bitch," one of them said. Jonathan couldn't tell which. Everything seemed dizzy and hazy now. He hoped that the Joker had gotten his phone call. He had heard him answer, had heard that drawn out _Hell-o._ And he had told him the name of the street he was on. It was less than fifteen minutes away by car, depending on how fast one went.

"Let's mess around with him first."

Jonathan closed his eyes as he felt their hands grab him and drag him away, deeper into the alleyway. He didn't know what would happen, but he knew it wasn't anything good. He was preparing for the worst but didn't want his life to end.

"Brigs can take his turn first, then you, then me," came Reg's voice.

"I don't know if this kid can take it or not. Just one punch and he's nearly out of it," came the older man's voice, the one Reg had called Brigs.

"It doesn't matter. We're doing this quick and then wasting his ass."

"We could just leave him here." This was the middle-aged man's voice.

Jonathan grunted as he was thrown onto the ground. The area around him was enclosed, surrounded by old, worn down buildings.

"Why the fuck do you care, Dwayne? If you don't want to do this, then go stand watch."

The man named Dwayne growled and turned away. Jonathan was relieved but still had to deal with two other men. He hated that he couldn't defend himself. He had always been too weak to be physically aggressive. His fieldwork was the mind, not the body. This angered him.

"Hold him down while I get his pants," Reg demanded.

Jonathan was panicking now. There was no way he was going to let them degrade him, use him, and put him away without a fight. He turned over onto his back and kicked at them, managing to kick Reg in the nose, but as he stood to his feet he was grabbed by Brigs.

"You fucking bitch!" Reg yelled, his nose bleeding. He dealt another punch to Jonathan's face, and another, then threw him onto his stomach once again. "Brigs, hold this motherfucker down so I can get his pants."

Jonathan didn't feel dizzy anymore. He had gotten used to the punches. And it was beginning to pump him full of adrenaline. He could feel the voice of Scarecrow echoing in his mind, becoming stronger. It was telling him to fight back. _Show these cocksuckers what you're made of_. _There is nothing to fear but fear itself_. Jonathan's heart was beating fast and his breathing was intensifying. His face was in the dirt and he could feel his pants being pulled roughly down his legs. That was enough to set him off.

With a sudden, hoarse, yell he pushed himself up, knocking Reg back, and grabbed Brigs, whom he threw down. But Reg was back on his feet quickly and suddenly had the knife to his throat. Jonathan stopped under his blade, trying to think amidst the confusing buzz in his mind. Had he really just knocked both of them down so forcefully? It didn't matter, though. His strength hadn't lasted long. He could will his mind, like always, to take action, but his body wasn't the same. He could only take so much before he was physically broken.

"Goddammit! I swear I will fucking kill you right now if you don't follow along!" Reg seethed.

"And I swear I will blast your brains if you don't let him go."

Reg and Brigs looked over, their eyes wide with shock at hearing a new voice. As Jonathan looked over he felt a waterfall of relief wash over him. The Joker had found him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Reg yelled, standing to his feet, his knife pressed firmly to Jonathan's neck.

"I am..no one," the Joker said, his lips forming into a half smile. He had the paint on his face, but some of it had worn off at the top. And in his hand he held a pistol.

"Then why don't you turn around and get the fuck out of here. We don't like clowns."

"Funny. You're little watchman said the same, before I killed him."

Brigs' eyes widened, but Reg just pursed his lips. "He was too soft anyway. I don't want to have to kill you, man. If you walk away right now we can just forget any of this fucking happened."

"Right, but you have to let him go first." The Joker took a step forward and pointed his gun at Reg. "Or I might just have to kill you too."

"And what if I kill him instead?" Reg seethed, pushing the knife against Jonathan's neck.

"Well, then you wouldn't have a shield for when I put that bullet through your chest. At least he could take the worst of the impact, don't you think?"

Reg narrowed his eyes in confusion. "And if I let him go? What'll happen then?"

The Joker sighed, clearly growing impatient. Without any hesitation, nor even a glance, he pointed his gun toward Brigs and pulled the trigger.

Reg made a noise in his throat, not quite a yell but close enough.

Jonathan could feel the knife pressing to his throat shaking against his skin. Reg was growing nervous, growing scared. He could feel the fear dripping from him. It made Jonathan smile, despite his situation. The Joker was succeeding in scaring him.

"Let him go," the Joker repeated.

"I-If I do, will you let me go?" Reg's voice was cracking now.

"I can't let you go until you let go of _him_." He was growing aggravated now. "I'm a very busy man. I don't have all day here."

"Okay, okay." Reg suddenly pulled away the knife and pushed Jonathan forward. "I'll just be leaving now. Alright?"

"No, you won't." The Joker pointed his pistol at Reg and, without any hesitation, pulled the trigger again.

Reg fell to the ground, his body now limp. An instant head shot.

Jonathan stood still, his shoulders slumped while his arms dangled by his sides. He had pulled his pants back up but they were still unbuckled.

The Joker glared at him intensely, as if he was angry. "Where's your phone?" he asked.

"His pocket."

"Get it."

Jonathan looked down at Reg. The blood was already beginning to pool around his dead body. The sight made him feel nothing, just emptiness. He sniffed the blood up his nose before buttoning and zipping his pants, then he bent down and found his phone in Reg's back pocket.

"Let's get out of here," the Joker hissed. He turned on his heel and quickly made his way out of the area.

Jonathan followed close behind, ignoring the dead body of Dwayne as he made his way down the alley. He owed the Joker his life now. He was in his debt.

The alleyway was dark and Jonathan had no trouble in following the Joker out into the main street. They moved quickly, though the Joker looked exceptionally calm. He followed him until they came upon a dark blue car parked by the curb. After the Joker got in the driver's side he unlocked the passenger's door and Jonathan got in quickly. As soon as their doors slammed the Joker turned on the ignition.

Jonathan looked cautiously out of his window, seeing if they had any pursuers. He didn't see anyone as the Joker drove into the dark streets of Gotham. He closed his eyes, more than relieved to be away from those men in the alleyway. Though the Joker was like a savior to him now, he didn't know what to say to him. What was he supposed to say? _Thanks for rescuing me! _No, he would have to think of something better, something that didn't make him out to look like the biggest failure ever.

The Joker was silent too, though his mood seemed angry. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, and when Jonathan looked over at him he noticed that his jaw seemed to be shut tightly, as if he was grinding his teeth together. Jonathan wondered if he was going to have to take some heat for what had just happened back at the warehouse. It didn't matter, though. The Joker had saved his ass and he owed him for that.

Jonathan narrowed his bloodshot eyes in confusion as the Joker turned onto a street going in the opposite direction of the warehouse. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice dry and low.

"To my apartment. We can't go to the warehouse right now, just in case we have any pursuers."

It made sense. Jonathan felt even worse as he thought about it. _My fault, _he thought. If he had watched himself better they wouldn't be in their current situation now. "I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't good at apologizing.

"Don't talk."

Jonathan raised a brow but the comment hadn't surprised him. The Joker was clearly angry. He didn't mind, however. His whole head and face was throbbing, and his lip and nose were bleeding. The pain in his stomach had eased but it ached from where he had been punched earlier; it was all making him tired. He had wiped some of his blood off with his arm, but it was making him feel a bit sick so he started using the bottom of his black shirt under his jacket instead.

When they got to the apartment building the Joker parked discreetly and pulled his hood over his head. "Let's go," he demanded.

Jonathan reacted slowly but he followed suit with the Joker, shutting his door casually and making his way behind him into the building. A few flights of stairs later, they were standing outside his door. Jonathan couldn't remember the last time he had stayed here – the Joker came every now and then for time alone.

When the Joker opened the door, his keys rattling as he made his way inside, they were both immediately surrounded by the darkness of the room. Jonathan closed the door behind him and squinted when the lights flipped on. He got a chill up his spine when he saw the Joker glaring at him, the messy paint on his face making him look inhuman.

"You look like shit, Crane," the Joker said harshly.

"I bet I do," Jonathan replied softly.

"Go clean yourself up."

Without another word the Joker turned and made his way into the kitchen. Jonathan sighed deeply and forced his feet into the Joker's bedroom. Flipping on the lights, he made his way into the bathroom, his head still throbbing loudly. When he looked into the mirror he thought he was looking at another person. His lip was busted and the blood coming from his nose had stained his skin. His right eye was swollen and almost blue, and his left cheek had a big bruise from where he had hit his bone on the sidewalk. The left side of his face also had a few scratches. He looked like a mess overall.

He had learned his lesson for the night, but it couldn't stop the same thing from happening in the future. Tonight hadn't been the first night he had been mugged or beaten, or almost raped. He had a history of being bullied and physically harassed. It was nothing new but the fact that the Joker came to his defense made him feel important, full of worth, though at the same time a wuss. Not only had he defended him, he had literally killed off the very men that had mugged him. _They got what they deserved,_ he thought to himself. _They were going to kill me for no reason._

Jonathan winced as he held up some toilet paper to his nose. Some of the blood was drying on his face, but some of the sticky, red liquid was still making it's way out of his left nostril. He felt a bit nauseous and suddenly had the urge to take a hot shower. He wanted to scrub off the filth of the day – the marks those three men had made on his body, the blood stained into his skin, and the stench of their voices.

With his face in a cringe of disgust he turned from the bathroom and made his way into the bedroom. The Joker had a dresser full of clothes. Jonathan had kept a few there too, since he had stayed with him for a while weeks ago. His gray t-shirt and faded plaid pajama pants were still there, along with a pair of socks. He took them out and made his way back to the bathroom, looking through the doorway into the kitchen as he went. The Joker was no where in the other room. It didn't bother him, though. He had a feeling the Joker wasn't in the best of moods at the moment. With that thought in mind, he growled deeply in his chest and closed the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

"Trying to use up all the hot water, Doc?"

Jonathan looked over as he came out of the bathroom, the steam from inside following him out into the bedroom. He rested his blue eyes on the Joker, whom was laying on the bed with his hands behind his head, his face paint gone now.

"Just making sure I get the stench off."

"Ah. I figured maybe you were fantasizing in there. Maybe getting off to the thought of me."

Jonathan sat down on the bed and sighed deeply. "No," he said casually.

"Why not? I know you jerk off, Crane. You moan in your sleep all the time."

Jonathan's eyes widened and his face turned pink. "Well," he hesitated. "What guy doesn't do that?" The conversation was getting weird.

"I guess any guy that doesn't get any ass." The Joker pulled himself up so that he was sitting beside Jonathan. "And you haven't gotten any in what, a couple years maybe?"

Jonathan clenched his jaw. "Six," he replied.

The Joker made a face, as if impressed. "No sex for six years? And you dated only one girl, right?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Well, it doesn't. I'm just curious."

Jonathan looked over at him, his face a mixture of different colors – purple, blue, yellow, and pink from the bruises and scratches.

The Joker smiled crookedly as he looked down at the man he had saved from possibly being killed. "You clean up pretty good, Crane. I thought for a second you'd have some ugly scars, like mine, but they'll heal quick."

Jonathan suddenly felt the Joker's thumb swipe across the bruise on his cheek, but he shoved his hand away out of instinct.

"Chill out, Crane, I'm not going to hurt you." The tone in the Joker's voice sounded annoyed, but also sincere.

Jonathan looked down. He honestly didn't know if the Joker would hurt him or not at the moment, but knew it would probably happen one day. "Look, I just want to sleep, alright?"

"I want you to tell me why you were out today first." The Joker swallowed and looked down at him with a hard stare. Even with the mask off he was intimidating.

"I visited a couple of stores, then I went to the bay."

"Why?"

"Because I was thinking about going to Arkham soon."

The Joker raised a brow. "And you were going to go by yourself?" He suddenly chuckled. "What, and get molested again?" His laughter continued.

Jonathan gritted his teeth. "I was going to ask if you would help."

The Joker's laughter calmed down now as he heard Jonathan's words.

"I know that I can't go alone, but some of the men there could be of use to us for Gotham. Mental men. Men full of rage and anger. _Broken_ men."

"Sounds like a worthy plan, Doc. I'll see what I can do. Getting to that island won't be easy, but there's always a way around something."

Jonathan smiled tiredly, happy that the Joker was complying with him. It hadn't been so hard after all. He had worried for nothing.

"But do me a favor, Crane."

"What's that?"

"Don't ever leave like that again. I'll have to hurt you if you do."

Jonathan smiled. "Trust me, I won't, at least not without my toxin."

"You're an idiot, Crane. A real fucking idiot."

"You don't seem to mind my company."

"That's because you're an oddly likable guy." The Joker drew in closer to his face.

"Funny. I think the same about you."

"You're pretty amazing Jonathan Crane," the Joker said coolly, his voice suddenly a bit deep.

Jonathan could feel tension between them, but it felt different; not like the normal tension between people. This went deeper, felt almost sexual. He couldn't believe he was feeling this way around him. The Joker saying his full name like that made the air feel even tighter.

"I'm really not," Jonathan replied.

"Yeah," the Joker whispered, coming closer to his face. "You are."

Before Jonathan could register in his mind why the Joker was coming closer to his face, he felt a wet pair of lips crush against his own. His first impulse was to pull away, and nearly fell off the bed in the process. When he had regained himself, he swallowed hard and looked up at the Joker, whom was staring at him with a brow raised.

"Relax," he said, pushing him down onto the bed.

Jonathan grunted as he hit the mattress. Whatever the Joker was doing, he strangely liked it. It was almost like the dream he had had just that morning, except now it was real. His heart pounded against his chest as the Joker suddenly hovered over him, his fists digging into the mattress on either side of his arms.

"_Relax_," the Joker whispered. He glared down at him as he drew in closer to his face again.

Jonathan didn't pull away this time, now that he was prepared, as well as pinned down. Instead, he braced himself for the lips that were now on his own again. They were dry this time, and he could feel part of the scar on the edge of his bottom lip, just like in his dream. It tasted good. He couldn't think, could hardly breathe as the Joker parted his lips. The thought of kissing him both revolted and excited him. But now he couldn't turn away. As soon as he felt his tongue brush against his he couldn't pull back. The Joker was making him feel things; things he hadn't felt in a long time. His kiss alone seemed to revive a part of him

His eyes were closed. There was no way he would open them, even for a second, to see the Joker above him. He was afraid he'd back out if he did. It felt odd but it also felt right as he kissed the insane man on top of him. The man that was now framing his body with his arms and holding his shoulders tightly in his hands. He was obviously liking what was going on too much.

Jonathan hated that the tingly, fiery feeling going through his body was now shooting down to his lower regions. He could feel himself hardening, especially when the Joker rubbed himself against him with his leg. It eventually became too much, and the Joker was growing antsy with his hands.

"Okay," Jonathan murmured, his breathing uneven as he broke away from the Joker's lips.

"What's wrong?" The Joker sounded a bit annoyed.

"I-I don't know." He was feeling too much for the man kissing him, and the Joker still hovering over him made things more difficult. "This is all..very unexpected."

"I like that," the Joker said, his chin held high. "Don't you? Gives it more of a _kick_."

Jonathan grunted as he felt the Joker nudge his knee against the hard erection in his pants.

The Joker suddenly chuckled and pushed himself up and off of the man lying under him. "Get some sleep, Crane," he said, his voice a bit annoyed as he stood to his feet. Without another word he made his way through the doorway and out of the room.

Jonathan blew out a big breath of air he seemed to have been holding in for the past few minutes. The kiss they had just shared had been nice, but it had also been very sudden. Jonathan couldn't think clearly now because of it. But things also didn't feel as awkward as before. Something was happening between them. He wasn't entirely sure what, but it was happening nonetheless, like chemicals reacting.

It had been a long and weird night. Perhaps if he hadn't been mugged he wouldn't have pushed the Joker away. There had been too many instances where people stronger than him had hurt him in some way. Of course he had gotten his revenge in the past. He didn't want to have to do the same for the Joker.

Despite their sensual and sudden encounter, it didn't feel as awkward as he thought it might be. He had a feeling it was coming, he just didn't know when or where. Whatever he felt for the Joker, though, it was growing bigger and bigger. With the kiss they had shared, there was no way he could deny not wanting all of him.


	11. Strip Poker

**A/N: NEW and improved chapter, with an extended wrap up. Sorry about the delay!**

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Day 27**

"Royal Flush."

Jonathan looked up at the Joker with his eyes. "You have to be cheating," he said, his voice dry.

The Joker looked at him smugly as he took the cash in the middle of the bed. "You'll never know, because you still can't play."

"I'm doing exactly what you told me to." He took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.

"Well, you obviously aren't taking it to heart. Now you have nothing else to wager." The Joker paused as he watched the young man across from him light his cigarette. Not only was he relaxed, but he had also had a few drinks. Another glass of whiskey and he would be even easier to control. He smiled as something came to his mind.

"What?" Jonathan asked, curious at his expression.

"You can wager your shirt."

Jonathan looked down. It was just a ratty looking gray t-shirt he had found at a thrift store. "Why?"

"Strip poker."

It clicked then. "If you want to see me naked, Red, then why don't you just ask?" he said smoothly, raising his brows as he inhaled some smoke.

"More of a challenge this way."

Jonathan nodded his head. "Alright, fine. And if you lose you take your pants off."

The Joker raised a brow. "We'll just have to see if that happens," he said, taking a swig from his whiskey bottle.

They continued another game but Jonathan knew he was no match for the Joker. He knew he would lose and would have to take off his shirt. A part of him didn't seem to mind, though. Before he knew it, right after he put out his cigarette butt, the Joker put down his cards, winning with a full house.

Jonathan looked over at him gently, his face smooth and clear except for the faint bruise still visible on his cheek from last week. Without a word, he pulled his shirt up over his head and laid it beside him.

The Joker grinned crookedly. "Another game, Crane. Still think you can beat me?"

"Possible. What if I've been bluffing this whole time?"

The Joker chuckled lightly as they started another game. "Careful, Crane. Once all your clothes are gone all you'll have left to wager is yourself."

Jonathan looked down and smiled as he poured himself more whiskey. A couple of swigs and card draws later, he grinned at the Joker when he showed his cards. "Four of a kind," he said, his voice cracking from being up so late.

The Joker cocked his head. "Maybe you are bluffing," he said. "Well, at least I can get ready for bed early." He grunted as he stood to his feet. His hands fumbled with his belt, his mind a bit buzzed from the whiskey, and pulled his pants off. Now only in a pair of black briefs, he sat back on the bed in his previous position.

Jonathan felt something stir in his stomach, though the stirring seemed to be going lower. His drinking was also making him too comfortable. It was exactly the right formula to land them both in the previous position they had been in that night he was attacked. That was the last night they had locked lips.

"You lose again, Crane," came the Joker's voice.

Jonathan looked up, his eyes growing heavy. Had the game really just ended that fast, with the Joker winning? His head felt too light and his lids tired. Laughing softly, he stood to his feet and unzipped his pants. As he fumbled with pulling them down he lost his balance and staggered against the bed.

The Joker's lips curled into a half smile as he watched Jonathan stumble and giggle. "I think you've had one too many, Crane. Maybe we should just call it quits."

"No way," Jonathan said, his eyes widening as he sat down. "I am _going_ to beat you again, and you are going to take your shirt off." His voice sounded innocent and childish.

"Alright, let's go."

They began another game, which resulted in Jonathan winning this time. "Go ahead, take it off," he laughed.

The Joker didn't hesitate in pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Jonathan's sporadic laughs slowly ceased when he saw the other man's bare skin. The Joker was broad and more lean than himself, but he also had a few scars across his torso – light, but visible. It was enough to get Jonathan going so he tore his eyes away and looked down at his cards.

"Want to keep going?" the Joker asked.

Jonathan smiled innocently. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

The Joker glared at him as a small smile tugged at his lips. "I'm curious, Crane, at how far you'd be willing to go right now."

"I don't know," Jonathan replied, his words slurring together. "I wouldn't know until I tried. Wait, what are we talking about?"

"Sex, Crane. I know I'm not the only who wants it. Why don't you just give in?"

Jonathan looked away but considered what the Joker was saying. It was hard to think straight with the alcohol making him feel tired and odd. "It might feel nice," he got out, blinking, though his expression was blank. Why not? What did it matter, anyway? They would more than likely forget about it in the morning. "You want to?"

With the sweep of his hand, the Joker cleared the cards off the bed, scattering them all onto the floor below. He came closer to Jonathan, whom backed away onto his hands. "We've already got the easy part over with," he said as he pinched his hip.

Jonathan jumped at his touch and hit his head on the wall behind him. He groaned as he brought his hand up to soothe the dull ache.

The Joker chuckled. "Why are you so jumpy? Think I'm going to hurt you?"

"No," Jonathan mumbled. "I've never done this with another man before."

"It's really not that different," the Joker assured, pressing him down onto the bed with his hand. "Instead of a woman it's just a man with a big, meaty dick in place of pussy."

Jonathan gulped but he was becoming aroused as the Joker hovered over him.

"I just want to make you feel good, Crane. I want to make you feel damn good. And I want to feel good too. Don't you think this feels good, Crane? Hm?"

Jonathan bit his lip as he felt the Joker rub his leg against his erection. It did feel good, _too_ good. "Yes," he muttered. "It does."

"You want me to keep doing it?"

"Yeah," Jonathan hesitated, his heart pounding fast. "I do."

"Good. You've got a pretty hard boner, Crane. Doesn't seem to take much for you."

"I haven't done anything like this in years."

The Joker responded by crushing his lips to Jonathan's. The man under him tensed but kissed him back; he tasted like cigarettes and alcohol, something that didn't bother him much at all. He savored the flavor, relishing Jonathan's mouth with his tongue.

"This feels..nice," Jonathan muttered, breaking apart their lips.

The Joker pressed his palm against Jonathan's erection through his gray underwear. "How about this?" he asked, glaring down at the man beneath him. "This feel nice, too?"

Jonathan moaned lightly in response. "Yes," he swallowed. "It does."

The Joker suddenly paused and removed his hand from Jonathan's erection. "Why would someone like you want to do this with someone like me?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he propped himself up onto his elbows.

"My scars have to bother you."

"Does it look like I care? I happen to like your scars." His words were slow but he had meant what he said.

"Tell me why," the Joker demanded.

"I don't know. They make you who you are. I don't know, I just like them."

"Touch them."

Jonathan blinked a few times, trying to keep his eyes open. He _wanted_ to keep them open, wanted to stay awake for whatever he and the Joker were about to do, but he felt so fatigued from the long day and from drinking. With the last of his energy, he raised his hand up to the Joker's face and touched his scars with his fingers. They were rigid and coarse like he remembered, but this time he didn't tense. Unlike last time, this time was different. He liked the way they felt under his fingers.

The Joker looked down at him calmly, taking in the man under him. "You make me feel weird, Jonathan Crane," he said.

Jonathan's heart leapt at hearing him say his name. But why would that affect him? "How?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Okay," Jonathan slurred, closing his eyes as he settled his head on his pillow.

"Crane," the Joker said loudly. "Don't fall asleep."

"I want to have sex with you, Red," Jonathan assured, dropping his hand from his face. "I really do. But right now I just want to-I just want to sleep."

The Joker looked away. He was still on top of Jonathan but he could feel the man under him growing softer, less tense. "Fine," he said. "But if you wake up with a sore ass just know I couldn't wait on you."

"You wouldn't do that," Jonathan mumbled, almost near sleep.

The Joker rolled over onto his back beside him and sighed. "Fucking loads of fun, Crane," he said dully, before placing his hands behind his head on the pillow.

* * *

It was around 4 am when Jonathan woke to the sound of thunder. He could tell it was raining by the sound it was making on the roof. From the one window in the room he could see lightning flash across the sky. This was a comfort to him. It made him feel safe. As he pulled the sheets up to his chest he became aware of another body beside him. He turned over onto his back and looked over at the Joker beside him, sleeping lightly.

It was within that peaceful moment that Jonathan wanted to curl up beside him. The alcohol in his stream had worn off but he was also no longer tired. He wondered if the Joker would get angry if he woke him up. He just wanted to touch him, just his arm. He extended his hand out and placed his fingers on the sleeping psychopath's skin.

The Joker stirred slightly. Jonathan wanted him now. He hated that he had fallen asleep earlier, but now he was getting antsy. As another boom of thunder sounded, he slid his palm up the Joker's chest slowly until he was cupping his side, where his ribs were. He gently placed his lips on the man's stomach and closed his eyes. Feeling him like this, with him asleep, was getting him hard. The Joker was so unaware of what was going on. He liked that. Until the body under him twitched.

When Jonathan looked up his heart dropped as he saw the Joker glaring down at him. He felt the heat rush up in his face. There was no turning back now. Before he could move he felt a hand grab his hair and push him down onto his back. Then a weight as the man beside him climbed on top of him.

There were no words, only the removing of undergarments. They had both fallen asleep with their clothes off from their poker game, but now they were all skin. Jonathan was hard but he also didn't like how rough the man above him was being.

The Joker grabbed Jonathan's wrists and held them down against the bed. Then he placed his mouth on his neck and licked the skin there. Though Jonathan tried to calm down he couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed by the man's actions. He was being aggressive, but a part of him liked it, especially when the man's tongue ran over his collarbone. Jonathan bucked his hips. He couldn't help it. He had never felt this way before, not even when he had been dating his past love.

The Joker had removed his hands from Jonathan's wrists and was now cupping his neck in his palm. His lips locked onto the man's under him and he kissed him hard. His breath smelled like heavy alcohol, and his skin was clammy. His hair was down, and greasy, but Jonathan tightened his fingers around the dirty locks, relishing the gritty feel. He liked the grime, it just fit the atmosphere. It fit the Joker.

The Joker's whiskey lips licked every bit of skin as he grounded his hips into Jonathan. His hands gripped at the smaller man's neck, his shoulders, hair, everywhere. He liked feeling in control. It made him feel good. It turned him on. And he liked controlling Jonathan Crane, ex-psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum, a real nutcase himself, a cold-hearted villain like himself. He indulged in the idea of fucking him.

Despite their brief act, Jonathan was feeling himself near his peak. To stop himself he pushed the Joker off him and raised a finger. "Give me a minute," he whispered. But the Joker wouldn't have it. He grabbed Jonathan's thighs in his hands and flipped him over onto his stomach.

Jonathan panicked at this point. He struggled against the man probing his erection at a sensitive part of him. "Take it slow," he begged. There was nothing else he could do.

He was surprised when the Joker listened to him. He _did_ take it slow, though when he began thrusting he sped up his pace. Jonathan felt searing pain. He couldn't understand why people liked anal sex. It was painful, but he liked feeling the Joker do it to him. He liked the taboo act in itself. He panted as he was pressed against his pillow. He was beginning to sweat and he was close to his climax.

As he spilled his semen onto the sheets under him he moaned softly. The Joker was still thrusting into him; he could feel the man's hands on his arms, his back, his hair, and his tongue as he licked along his back. That wet tongue gave him chills, chills that went so deep that his eyes rolled back and he nearly moaned into his pillow. The Joker's hands were rough, but they had turned him on nonetheless. The pain in his rectum was now subsiding to a dull ache. Perhaps it wasn't so bad.

When the Joker came he trembled against Jonathan. He grunted, his body sweating, and gave every bit of himself to the man under him. Once he was spent he released his grip on Jonathan's body and rolled over onto his back. Within a few seconds he was back asleep, his breathing growing deep.

Jonathan's heart dropped and his face fell. He was still panting as he looked over at the Joker. The other man had just left his grimy marks on him. He suddenly felt used.


End file.
